The Friday Series
by Jo2
Summary: A jinniyah joins the immortal gang
1. Richie's Freebie

**THE FRIDAY SERIES 1**  
**RICHIE'S FREEBIE **

By JoLayne  
[EnyaJo@aol.com][1]

* * *

**RATING:** PG

**CHARACTERS**: Richie, OFC Friday, Eventually: J, DM, A, M

**SUMMARY**: A chance meeting in a New York bar **_will_** change Richie's life.

**DISCLAIMER**: All characters but Friday belong to Panzer/Davis.

**NOTE**: I've never written the character of Richie before, and hope I got him right, at least for this story. The beginning of this story takes place just after the episode "_Something Wicked_."

* * *

**1995**

**NEW YORK CITY**

Richie emerged from the YMCA and started to unlock his motorcycle that he bought the day before. He thought he might have been ripped off but wanted wheels and paid the price. As he rode down the massive city's streets, he thought back to the last time he saw his best friend and teacher, Duncan MacLeod. After taking Koltek's dark quickening, Mac was actually going to take his head. Richie could feel the cut slicing through his neck and the intensity hadn't subsided, even a couple of weeks later. He hadn't even called to ask Joe how Mac was doing and certainly wasn't going to go near him until the coast is clear. That would be all he needed, to be beheaded by his teacher!

Mac's eyes were so full of hatred, Richie wondered if he'd killed anyone during those dark days since he last saw him. Joe can't go around shooting him whenever he got to that point. Richie thought he had become a better fighter, was in great shape. But it only took a few slices with Mac's katana, and Richie was on his knees before the one who'd take his head, his teacher. 

All Richie's confidence faded after fleeing Seacouver, so when he arrived in New York, he diligently worked out in the gym, practiced his sword handling in his room at night. He wondered if he should have gone to holy ground in case Duncan got it into his head and he really needed Richie's. He went to New York instead, as far away as he could go but still stay in the good old US of A. Paris was out of the question. Richie just knew that as soon as he'd get settled, MacLeod could show up and try to relieve his body of his head as Paris was his second home. Richie hated to think that way about his teacher, but it that close call was too scary. If Joe hadn't have broken his Watcher Oath and interfered, Richie would be sans head.

He stopped his bike and paused at the side of the street. Cabs and pedestrians went past with blinding speed. The world was moving, and he couldn't find it in himself to join in. Richie took his helmet off and stretched his neck, glad to still have it in one piece. He saw that he had stopped in front of a run down old tavern. Except for the neon sign that announced, "Ted's Bar", Richie wouldn't have even known it was there. Yeah, he needed a drink. Sure, it was early in the day, but he promised he'd just have one and sauntered inside after locking his cycle to a lamp post. 

The interior of the bar was dim, lit by dented brass lamps that hung over chipped and worn wood tables that lined one wall with the bar itself with ratted stools lined the other. He could see there were pool tables in the back. An old country-western song was playing from the jukebox. So old, that Richie didn't even recognize the tune, but sounded like Johnny Cash. 

The only customer in the place was a heavy-set woman sitting in a far booth. A man who had to be Ted was leaning against the bar reading a newspaper. He didn't even look at Richie as he sat on a stool at the bar, so Richie asked, "Beer, please?"

Ted shortly asked, "What kind?"

Richie smiled, he had a choice in a dump like that? "Whatever's on tap."

Just after Ted set the beer down and collected his money, the phone rang, giving the bartender a hopeful jolt. It rang again and Ted just stared at the phone on the shelf behind the bar. Richie asked, "You gonna get that?"

The bartender wanted privacy. He didn't know why, but had the pleasant thought that the caller had to be Margarita. It had to be. He had to take it in the office. No need to plead to his girl in front of a guy. Ted locked the cash register and asked Richie, "You won't take anything while I'm gone, right?"

"No."

Ted had to trust him, he just had a feeling that if he didn't take that call, his life would never be the same. The Cash tune ended and Richie guessed that the new song was one from Hank Williams, Sr. Ted went into the office, shutting the door behind him. Richie gulped his cold beer, then looked at the woman in the booth. Richie couldn't even tell how old she was. She was outfitted in a NYU sweatshirt, jeans, dingy white sneakers. A college student? But she didn't look his age. Her long frizzy hair was looped up on one side with the plume of a weird looking feather. Thick round glasses slipped down her nose. On each of her fingers were rings of either solid silver or adorned with gaudy stones, which were so big, Richie couldn't believe they could possibly be real. A silver loop was pierced into her nostril.

When the woman turned to look at him after sipping her drink, Richie smiled, nodded his head, in greeting. She looked back to the pina colada on the table in front of her and rubbed her finger around the rim. "Hey," Richie said. "What's your name?"

"Friday," she said in a deep, calming voice.

Richie was taken by her voice, as if it called to him. She was sipping her drink again, flicking a gold cigarette lighter and closing the cover to extinguish the flame, ignoring him. He chuckled, "You're going to tell me what your name is on Friday?"

"Funny," she said, looking at him, then ignored him again.

He shook his head. She certainly wasn't his type. She had thick glasses, frizzy long black hair, and had to weigh around 200 pounds. But there was something about her aura that he couldn't resist. Like an invisible force was calling to him, Richie had to get closer to her. He took his beer and slipped into her booth.

She smiled and looked at her watch. "Twenty-four seconds. That is not bad. I have still got it."

"Got what?"

Friday looked him straight in the eye, "What do you want?"

Richie stuck out his hand to her, "I'm Richie. What's your name?"

"My name is Friday," she articulated to him again, in case he didn't understand her words before. "At least, that is what I call myself. If I told you my true full name, you could not handle it."

There was something definitely weird, yet wonderful about her. That force... Richie felt the need to run his hand through her frizzy hair for some reason he couldn't figure out. "There's something about you..."

She saw his hand moving across the table toward her and flicked his hand away, "Of course, there is. It is hard for people to resist what I have to offer."

"That's pretty forward. You aren't the cutest thing in the world."

"I agree," she pleasantly said. She didn't pick this form she currently filled out for nothing. Richie hadn't taken his eyes off her, but she was used to it. "Yep," she smiled, kept flicking the lighter. "Men just cannot help wanting to make all their wishes to come true."

"What wishes can you give me?"

"Anything you desire, if I wanted to," she said, pulling at the loose skin over her wrist. "But, I am just here on a break. I am already serving one Master, I cannot have two at the same time. And he is really slow. He wants to make sure there are not any loopholes in his wishes. I have been with him for seven years and he is driving me crazy."

Richie tried to comprehend what she said, couldn't wipe the smile from his face. "What are you talking about?"

"I cannot give you any wishes right now. I am sorry."

"I'm not asking for any."

"Good, because you would be disappointed if you did."

Richie took another sip of beer, then wondered if it was spiked or something. He thought he saw a flash of fire spark from her wrist, Richie was sure he saw it. But since the woman didn't seem to concerned about it, the flame must have been the light of the overhead lamp reflecting on the lighter that she still clicked open and closed. "What's this about wishes... a Master?"

"Oh, you know," She flicked her wrist at him, repositioned the ostrich feather in her hair. "Everyone knows about us. They just do not know that we are real."

"Have you had many Masters," Richie smiled, played along, sipped his beer.

Friday looked up at the ceiling and mentally counted, "Let me see... I must be close to... 3000 by now."

"You're 3000 years old?" Richie laughed. "You're not immortal, you don't have a buzz."

"No," she said, wondered if he was drunk as he couldn't follow a conversation. "I have had that many Masters. What is immortal? What is a buzz?"

"I'm immortal," Richie proud pointed to his chest. "A buzz is what we feel when there's another one of us around."

It was her turn to look at him, confused. She pointed at his beer mug, "How many of those have you had so far today, young man?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing."

She wasn't used to be second-guessed. At all. "You think I am lying?"

Richie shrugged, and took another sip from his mug. She waved her hand. Suddenly, Richie was drinking pure lemon juice. He spit it out, looked at his beer. "What the...?"

"Because you have a nice smile, I did not change your beer into battery acid, which was my first thought."

He slammed the glass back on the table, "You did this?"

"Yes."

"Change it back."

"I do not perform tricks."

"You just did. Turn it back."

Friday took a deep breath and wondered why she even started. With another wave of her hand, the lemon juice turned back into the half glass of beer Richie had been nursing. Richie sniffed it, it was beer. "Man, I've seen some seriously messed up stuff, but you... you're a magician?"

"A jinniyah," she corrected him.

"A what?"

Friday wondered if she should just disappear and get some peace, but the young man seemed to have a cloud over him. So young. So... tortured. She decided to stick around a little longer. If things didn't go well, she could always wipe his memory of their meeting. "I am what you would call a 'genie'."

Richie laughed, and blurted out, "You don't look like Barbara Eden."

"No, I do not look like Barbara Eden," Friday spouted. "I do not flash my belly button or wear nothing but scarfs. I do not live in a bottle with fluffy pink and purple pillows."

"Where do you live?"

"The Trump Tower. Only do not tell The Donald. He does not know that I am a tenant."

"Nice place?"

She boasted, "The penthouse."

"Very nice." Richie looked at the dingy bar that he was too high class for. "Then what are you doing in a dump like this?"

"I needed a drink and I thought I would be left alone here. Imagine my surprise when Ted actually got a customer."

"You're a genie," he muttered, smiling, trying to comprehend.

"Yes. We established that already." 

Richie had seen movies and TV shows and she was nothing like genies, at all. "You have magic?"

"Of course."

"Then... why do you look like that?"

"Excuse me?"

"If I had magic," Richie explained, "I'd want to look as good as possible. I'd at least fix my eyes, why are you wearing glasses?"

"I can look like anything I want. I do not want to have to deal with anything in this guise. In fact, maybe I should not be visible to you at all." Friday finished her drink, then tapped her glass and it filled up again. 

"That is so cool!" he said, then downed his beer. He slid his mug over to her.

"What? You want a free drink?"

"You just got one."

"I am not giving you a free drink. Ted can use the money. I like it here and want him to stay in business. That is his girlfriend on the telephone. She walked out on him the other night and he was feeling kind of low. So, I made her call. He has been in there for a while, so maybe they are really talking it out."

Richie pushed his glass closer to her. "Well, I'd like another beer."

"Go get one."

"The bartender's not there. You give me one."

"Give me the money."

He slipped her a couple of dollars and nodded to the glass, smiling. "Fill it."

The money disappeared and his glass was full. He was hesitant to drink it when he got the glass to his lips. Making her laugh. She assured him, "It is beer, Richie."

He sipped, and smiled. "Where'd the money go?"

"It is in the cash register. What is this immortal? You mean, one who lives longer than people? Like me? You are not like me. I can spot one of us. You are not radiating blue."

Richie laughed, "Well, that's good." It was his time to boast. "You've never heard of us? I'm an immortal. The only way I can die is to be beheaded."

"Yuck!" Friday grimaced, turned back to her drink. What some guys will come up with... 

"You can't ever die either?"

Friday looked at him, and saw that he was serious, not a lick of joviality in his eyes at all. "No..." He was different than most people she came across in her life. There wasn't a blue aura, but there was something about him. She surprised herself when she told him, "I can die. I grow older, but just not as fast as mortals. Or, my Master can use a wish to set me free. Then I would become mortal, like you and die of old age or any other way a mortal dies. I think dying in your sleep would be the best way to go, after living a good, long life. Do you not agree? But, I just want to stay the way I am, or the way I want me to be."

"I'm not mortal," Richie corrected her again. "I'm IM-mortal."

Friday laughed. He was certainly insistent. She thought she'd heard it all. Richie downed the rest of his beer, happy he walked in that bar. Even though the woman, Friday, was abrasive and fiddled with her skin, and wasn't at all attractive, Richie was glad to have met her. And it was actually beer he was drinking, and knew he at one time had a mouthful of lemon juice. 

When Friday had seen Richie walk in, she had decided to make herself visible, be someone not immediately attractive in the present late 20th century to see what kind of fellow he was. When he came over, she thought he was a good guy. But, turns out... he was insane. That was too bad. She'd seen a lot over the years, and an immortal wasn't one of them. 

Richie saw her hiked eyebrow and disbelief and broke his mug on the corner of the table, then cut his hand with a shard. She jumped back, "You are not one of **_those_**__, are you?"

"A what?"

Friday had recoiled to the corner of her booth, "I do not what they call them now... They like pain. Self-mutilation."

"No. I don't like pain, I'm just showing you something." Richie wiped off the blood on his hand. "Look."

Except for the smudged blood, there wasn't a trace of the cut she saw him make. Friday lifted her eyes to him, "You are an Afret? A Shaitan? You are not a Jin, a Jan, perhaps." She sucked in her breath, was horrified. "You are not a Marid, are you? I have not even seen a Marid for over a thousand years."

"A Marid?"

"Yes. They are the most powerful Jinn of all." She hurriedly gulped her pina colada and was going to make herself scarce. "A jinniyah only has to see a Marid if they have done something wrong. I have not been caught since..." She didn't want to even think about it, it was too emotional for her. She quickly said, "Goodbye."

Richie took hold of her hand to soothe her, "No. I'm just an immortal."

Ted came back with a smile on his face. Friday was glad to see it, he was a nice man with a dead end business. Richie said, "Where are you from?"

Ted spun around to look at him, "Me? Albuquerque."

Friday quietly told Richie, "I would not do that if I were you."

"What?" Richie was surprised the bartender answered him, his head bobbing between the two of them.

Friday said, "Ted cannot see me, he is going to think you are talking to yourself. So, do not do it, unless you want someone else to think you are weird."

"He can't see you?"

"See what?" Ted saw the other glass on the booth table. "Hey! You made yourself a pina colada?"

Richie fumbled, "Well, I, ... yeah." He looked at Friday who pushed her glasses up on her nose and made the lighter disappear. She would be no help in the situation whatsoever. Ted was hovering over him, a big guy when he was standing over him. Richie put on his most winning smile and said, "Hope you don't mind. Here, I'll pay you for it."

"5.50," Ted said, holding out his hand.

Richie gave him a $10 bill. "Keep the change. Sorry for making myself at home."

"Okay," Ted said, went back to the bar and checked to see if everything was still where it was supposed to be behind the bar.

Friday was smiling at Richie when he turned back to her. "You are a nice man. It is a shame you are not my Master."

Richie laughed at the incredible circumstance he found himself in, actually talking to a bonafide genie! Ted thought he was laughing at him, "Hey, if you keep acting weird, get outta here."

"Sorry," Richie said, then saw that Friday wasn't at the booth, or in the bar, anywhere. "Friday?"

Ted asked, "What's Friday?"

Richie was stumped, not knowing what to say. "I'll... be back Friday?"

"I'll be waiting with baited breath," he grunted, then took a picture out of his wallet and swooned at his girl.

Richie figured it was time to leave, before Ted noticed the broken mug. He put another buck on the table to cover it's cost and left. Friday was leaning against his cycle when he emerged into the daylight. "I thought you left."

A couple of teenage girls walked by. "Jeez," one said. "I know guys like their bikes, but to talk to them?"

The other laughed and said, "You see it all in New York," as they walked on.

Friday smiled, "You have to be more careful, Richie. No one but you and my Master can see me. Or people that I want to see me."

"Well, make yourself visible."

Friday turned into an old man, right before his eyes. "Hey!" Richie searched all over for the woman. "Where...?"

"I am right here, Richie," the old man's gravelly voice surprised him. 

"Are you a woman?"

"I am female," the old man said. Then he shrugged, "Not really a woman."

Richie had to laugh at the old, decrepit man talking like that.

"Young man, I can be anything I want to be." The man looked both ways down the street and saw no one in particular was watching them. He waved his hand and poof! she turned into a supermodel. "Is this better?"

Richie's eyes bugged out, "Much!"

"I can look like anyone," Friday cooed with a French accent. "Or anything. I can be that lamp post if I wanted to."

Richie could only shake his head and smile, and look her over from head to toe. That was more like it! Friday got off his motorcycle and wobbled on the high heels, "Well, I should be going."

Richie made sure she was standing straight before he let go of her arm, although letting her go was the last thing he wanted to do. "Where are you going?"

"Home. Wait for my Master to call," Friday continued in the French accent. "He always does. To ask if maybe he could own Montana or something with no loopholes."

Friday gave Richie one last smile, kissed him on the cheek because he was a pleasant diversion, and sashayed up the street wearing a mini skirt so short, with a tanned and toned bared midriff under her big breasts, stilettos so high, she literally stopped traffic. Men stopped in their tracks gaping at her, the crude ones resorted to their form of welcome, cat calling. Friday stumbled on the heels and turned the corner and immediately turned back into her first form, pushed her glasses up on her nose. "I don't know how women can walk in them..."

Suddenly, no one paid her any attention, even though she left herself visible to them. Richie caught up to her and said, "Well, if you're just going home, why don't we do something?" The only thing on his agenda was finding a job as money was quickly running out, and he was sure that a day with the jinniyah would be much more interesting.

"That is sweet," she told him. "But no." The wind lifted the ostrich feather out of her hair. Richie tried to grab it, but it flew away. Friday appreciated the effort, and told him so. 

He shrugged, "No problem. Sorry I couldn't get it. It looked nice in your hair." Suddenly, she was putting another feather back into her now braided hair to keep the wind from wiping it over her face.

"Why can't we do something? Blow your boss off," he smiled.

"Blow my boss? What does that mean? Some modern phrases, I just do not know." Friday stopped and looked at the sky. It was a nice sunny day and Richie seemed like he needed a friend. She could walk back home, or use a quick wave of her hand to instantly appear anywhere, or she could spend more time with the young, strange man. She listened intently for her Master, but didn't hear him. "I should not have appeared to you in the first place. If a Marid finds out... oh, I do not want to think about it. I am supposed to be 'loyal' to my Master and protect the secrecy of jinn." 

Richie had gotten in front of her and was walking backwards, looking at her like a puppy. This wasn't any good. One more minute in that kid's presence and she could do something really stupid that could lock her in a box for a hundred years if her Master or a Marid found out. Locked in a box. Friday shivered with the thought of it. 

She stopped walking and put out her hand. When Richie took it, she felt hot to the touch. "You are nice, Richie. Thank you for the company. Good luck. I might see you around sometime."

Before he knew it, she was gone.

People were walking past from both directions, and no one seemed to have noticed the woman was there, let alone recently made a hasty exit. No one but him. Richie yelled, "Friday!" to no avail, except to receive looks from pedestrians, who steered clear of the weirdo.

He trudged back to unlock his bike, wondering if an appearance at the Trump Tower would be a good idea. Richie missed Friday already. When he was going to put a leg over the seat of his bike, there was a parchment scroll on it. It was a very windy day, but the paper didn't move. And he swore it wasn't there a second ago. He unwrapped the purple ribbon and unscrolled it. In a very elegant calligraphy with an odd purple ink, it read, 

**_Since you are so nice, Richie._**  
**_You can have one wish. _**  
**_Just do not tell anyone!_**  
**_ F_**

He looked both ways down the street for the Candid Camera truck, or Friday. Finding neither, he looked back at the parchment, which now read, 

**_Really. _**  
**_I am giving you one wish. _**  
**_ONLY one wish._**  
**_So be careful. _**  
**_I cannot change it _**  
**_If you choose wrong._**

**_ F_**

* * *

**YMCA**

That night, Richie couldn't sleep or stop thinking about Friday and the parchment. One wish... Five years ago, if he knew about immortals, he would have thought it crazy, and here he was pondering over a wish from a genie. He looked at the parchment that he had placed on the pillow next to him. It now read, 

**_Remember  
_****_I cannot change it _**  
**_If you choose wrong._**

**_ F_**

"Friday," he mumbled.

Friday appeared at the end of his bed, "What? I was sleeping!"

Richie jumped. She was wearing a flannel nightgown and rollers in her hair, only this time, not wearing those thick glasses. She scared him to death, and he almost fell off the bed. He shouted, "What are you doing here!?"

"You called for me."

"I did not!"

"Fine." Poof, she's gone.

Richie sat up, "Hey!"

Nothing.

Richie cleared his throat, "Friday?"

She was suddenly laying right next to him. He jumped, and this time, fell out of bed. "What? I need my beauty sleep."

"I really get one wish?"

"Can you understand English? I converse in every language on earth. Which would you prefer?"

"English is great."

Friday sat up and looked at Richie's surroundings. Lacking to say the least. A good wish for him would be a better place... "You know, I usually do not give an extra wish to someone, it takes a lot out of me. And it is **_really_**__ against the rules. Are you ready for your wish or can I get back to sleep now?"

"I want to think about it a little more. I just wanted to make sure it was all true. Go back to sleep."

She laid back on the bed and was snoring within seconds.

"At your house!"

Friday immediately disappeared. Richie whooped, he could have the mother lode! He could have anything he desired. He paced the little room speculating over the mass of things he'd like, a new motorcycle, money, magic of his own!

"Friday!"

She was not in a good mood when she reappeared in Richie's bed. "What!"

"I want for my wish... magic."

Friday didn't think he'd resort to the worst wish one could possibly ask for, "No, you do not."

"Yes, I do. Then I don't need you."

"Yes, you do."

"If I had my own magic..."

"You would not know how to handle it! That is totally against the rules and I refuse."

"You can't do that."

"Watch me," she said in an authoritative voice. "You be careful how you talk to me. You are not my Master, this is a favor. I can leave now and never come back and you are out a wish."

"Okay," Richie lightly appeased her. "I'll think of something else."

"Richie," Friday's demeanor changed to one of concern. "Do not ask for an easy way through this world, I have seen it. I have seen fine men and woman ask for 'the moon' and it kills them. Trust me. Do not ask for too much."

"Okay."

"Can I go back to sleep now?"

"Yes. At your place."

"Are you going to bother me again tonight?"

"No. And I'm sorry."

"Okay," Friday smiled, he was just excited and she should have expected that. "Think well. Do not call me until you are ready."

"I will."

She was gone.

Richie again paced, too excited to even think of getting back into bed. He thought about what he could have. A new bike would be good. He thought he was overcharged for his current one, maybe he could have a really great bike. But that's a material wish. Friday could give him a lemon, then where would he be? Out a great wish!

He decided to think bigger. World peace? No, that's too much to ask for, and it includes other people. He didn't want to change the world, just make his own life a little easier. 

Maybe... all immortals would be good. No, that would involve other people too. 

To heal Mac's dark quickening? It would help Mac, and himself. He could go back home. It seemed like a nice plan, but Friday said to be careful. Something could go wrong. "Yeah," he said aloud. "Mac could turn into Mother Theresa or something. Then lose his head when the first bad immortal comes around." He didn't like Mac's current demeanor, but he wouldn't want him to turn into a monk, or get beheaded.

The remembrance of Duncan MacLeod's eyes that night he was going to take his head filled Richie's mind again and made him shiver. He really was close to dying. What would it be like, to lose your head? Are you conscious in other immortals after they took your quickening? He sometimes felt a rumbling in his gut, for no reason at all. Maybe it was Mako? There wasn't anyone to ask that question. No one still alive knew the answer, not even Methos. Richie tried to change his thoughts back to something he'd want for a wish, but he couldn't stop thinking about the death of immortals. He grew up with the belief in God, but does that apply to immortals? It was the first time in his young life he really thought about the impact of it all.

When the sun came up, Richie finally had an idea. He wanted a freebie. If someone took his head, he wanted to have one more shot. A free life. It seemed right to Richie for two reasons, first, what if he died in a really stupid or embarrassing matter... an instant of not thinking that would lead to the lose of his head, he'd be able to live and never do what got him into trouble again. Second, he'd know what the afterlife of immortals is like. He'd have another life! It's perfect.

"Friday!"

She appeared eating a jelly donut. "You know, I am really starting to rethink this whole free wish thing."

"I have my wish."

"Then just say it. If you ever say a sentence that starts with... I wish... the magic will work, even if I am in Timbuktu, where I was going this afternoon to visit friends."

"I'd like to run it by you first though."

"To see if your wish is not stupid?"

"Yeah. And about that loophole thing."

"Very smart, Richie. Shoot."

"I'm immortal and the only way I can die is if someone takes my head."

Friday grimaced, "You said that."

"Any other way I die, I can revive."

"Ah huh."

Richie stood proud and demanded, "I want a freebie."

"A what?"

"I wish--."

"Careful!," she stopped him. Ordinarily she let people wish what they wanted. If her current Master ever figured out what he wanted, she'd have it come true ASAP, but Richie was another matter. He carried a weight on his shoulders and Friday didn't want him to waste a chance to lighten it a little. "You have not run it by me yet."

"Oh!" Richie stopped himself. "Okay. If that happens to me, if I lose my head... can I get it reattached and have another go at life?"

Friday scrutinized the possibility... "One time?"

"Yeah."

"Just one. If someone else takes your head after that, you are fine with it?"

"I'd have to be."

Friday suddenly darkened, unsure of herself, and she hated that. "I do not know about this immortal stuff. I have only worked with mortals. I do not know what the drawbacks would be. And I only gave a "freebie" once."

"What happened?"

"He turned into a cat."

"God!"

"No," Friday soothed him. "He wanted to. That was his last wish. Marvin was his name. He was a nice Master. So meek, so lonely. His last wish was asked for on his deathbed, he wanted to come back as a cat. A tabby, specifically."

"And he did?"

"Yes. A cute little orange kitten. After the last wish is granted and the offer of a fourth to negate the other three is refused, I am to wipe their memory of me and the wishes clean and have nothing more to do with them." Friday smiled while remembering the pleasant man. "But Marvin was so nice, I brought him to the home of a family with a little girl who asked for a kitten for Christmas, but did not get one and was disappointed. When I put Marvin on the doorstep with a tag that said, 'Merry Christmas Lisa', she loved him. I kept watch. There was not anything I could do if they did not want the cat, but it turned out well."

"So, you can do it?"

"Of course, I can do it. It is just... are you sure? This is your one and only wish. If something goes wrong, there is not a thing I can do about it."

"That's my wish."

He was so positive, and it seemed like nothing could go wrong. He didn't ask for a car, or motorcycle, money, anything material. Just a revival, that immortals could do themselves. Richie would just need a little help. She would reattach his head and his own body would take care of the rest, so it's not like the wish is to be revived from a total death. She'd just have to make the conditions right so Richie's body can do it himself. Friday finished the jelly donut and wiped her mouth ready to tell him it could be fine. Then thought of one drawback. "I do not know how long it will be before you bite the big one. I may be busy or..." she shuttered, "locked in a box and cannot find you right away."

"Well, you turned Marvin into a cat after he died..."

"Marvin died right after he wished it. I was right there. If this is your wish, I will know when you die. I just will not know where you are. I will have to find you to put you back together. I cannot do that long distance."

"But, when I call you, you come to me."

"Because you have not wished yet, Richie. As soon as you make that wish, I am gone."

Richie wondered what happens to immortals when they're taken. He'd always just left the corpses. "How long will it take to find me? What if I rot?"

"Well, if you explained it correctly. As long as your head is reattached to your body, you will regenerate right?"

"I should."

That wasn't a good enough answer for her to feel comfortable about giving that wish. Friday put her hands on Richie's arms like a teacher to student and said, "Maybe you should get all the answers before you make your wish."

"I don't want to walk around as a rotten corpse!" The only one he could ask to ask was Mac, and he wasn't in the talking mood.

"Do you want to think it over?"

"Hold on." Richie got an idea. He turned on the hot plate all the way up, then put his hand in the fire and screamed.

Friday was shocked. Pulled his hand back. His hand was burnt to a crisp. "Why did you do that?"

Richie said, "Looks pretty bad, doesn't it?" the hand was almost fried to the bone. The condition of his hand couldn't be much different than spending time in a coffin. Then, he regenerated.

"My World," Friday exclaimed, hand to her heart. "I have never seen anything like it before. You do not need wishes."

"I want a freebie if I lose my head."

Richie used a dirty T-shirt to wipe off the charred skin as Friday figured that the power Richie had should be able to take care of any physical drawbacks. It probably could be a good wish. "Okay," Friday nodded. "I will just tell you a couple of rules."

"Rules! You didn't say there were rules!"

"Just a couple."

"Hit me with them."

"Number one is most important. You can not tell anyone about your wish or me or Jinn or anything that has happened since you walked into that bar yesterday."

"No one?"

"Absolutely no one, even if it is a thousand years from now. If you do, since this is a long-period wish, meaning it will not happen right away, the wish is null and void if you tell anyone anything."

"That's an important rule."

"The most important. Jinn need secrecy."

Richie agreed, "I can wrap my head around that one. You can't tell anyone about immortals, either."

"Who would I tell?" She continued, "Rule number two, you cannot change your mind."

"I won't."

"I mean ever. Even if you lose your head and do not like your circumstances. I cannot change any loopholes that we are not thinking about. You are stuck with it."

Richie figured he was a great shape, a good fighter, he can take care of himself, it's just a second chance. If he hates it, he'll find the nearest immortal and have them take his head. No problem. But, what if he's the last one? The winner of the game. There's no one to take him. No immortal, anyway. If he committed suicide or had a mortal take his head, all the others' quickenings would be lost, including him. Then he shrugged, came back to reality, "You're not going to get that far, Rich."

"What far?"

When he looked at Friday again, she was out of that flannel nightgown, in a sweatshirt and sweat pants, combing out her long frizzy black hair with a jewel encrusted hairbrush. Richie shook his head, "Nothing. Anything else?"

"I only said there were a couple." She flung the brush in the air, and it disappeared. "Just also remember... even though it may seem like the wish is only about you, others could be affected by it and there is nothing I can do about it. As soon as your wish comes true, you are going to forget about me and your wish."

Richie touched her arm, "I won't remember you?"

"No."

He didn't think he could forget her, but looked her over one last time. Then he took a deep breath, "I wish....," he waited for her to stop him. When Friday didn't, he continued, with a smile on his face, "I wish that when I lose my head, you will reattach it and I will have one more life."

"Done."

"Just like that?"

"Yeah."

"No lights, no waving, no blinking, you just stood there. You didn't even bat an eye."

"I am not Barbara Eden! When I placed the wish on you," Friday explained, "you only had to tell the magic what you wanted. You have done that. I can go now. You can say 'Friday' until the cows come home and I am not coming."

"Until I lose my head."

"Yes," she softened. "I will have to find you then. As I said, it might take a while. The world is a big place."

"Before you go, can I give you a list of names?"

"What for?"

"People who might know where I am or are buried?"

"What for?"

"So you can find me fast."

"It does not work like that."

"How long will I be dead before you find me?"

"Richie, I told you I do not know. You cannot tell anyone about me, or your wish or it is null and void. But, I will give you a word of advice. Tell people throughout your life that you do not want to be cremated. I think you know why."

"I get the picture. I will."

Friday's head snapped up. "Oh," she groaned. "I have to go."

He grabbed her arms before she could wave them in the air and disappear, "Wait!"

"My Master is calling. I hope he is ready for the next wish, I am really getting bored with him. Take care, Richie. And I hope I do not have to see you again for years and years and years." Friday smiled, then was gone. 

Richie looked himself over and didn't feel different. But with the added confidence of having an extra life, he paced the tiny room with a lighter step. He called Joe to ask how Mac was, hoping he could go home. Joe's voice was thick with pain, to the point of scaring Richie when he said, "Stay away kid, it's bad. Mac took Sean Burns."

* * *

**FEBRUARY 1998**  
**PARIS**

In the form of a teenage girl, Friday appeared at the gate of the cemetery in Paris, wearing an oversized "Girl Power" T-shirt and biker shorts. The cold wind and snow of that stormy day rushed right through her. She waved her hand and became the form Richie had met in New York as the extra pounds could insulate her from the wind. She materialized a full length mink coat and pulled it close around her. 

She'd been searching for almost two years since she got the sign that Richie was dead. In the middle of a manicure at a salon in London, Richie's megawatt smile appeared in front of her face, then faded just as abruptly. All of a sudden, the weight of the world was on her shoulders and all she could think about was Richie and what had to have been his fate. It happened so soon.

She finished up with her Master at the time and made herself scarce, not visible to anyone while she combed the world for Richie's body. Starting in New York was a logical place as that's where they met, but came up with nothing. Then she scoured the entire USA, as Richie was clearly American. Nothing. Because his death happened so fast, she wished she would have taken that list of names he wanted to give her after making his wish of a free life. She figured that when Richie would finally die, a hundred years later, a thousand years later, who know if the world would still be in it's present form. Or Richie would still know the same people. She didn't need to keep lists that wasn't going to help her. Life was too short for such nonsense, and it was too short for Richie.

Friday searched. After pouring through Canada, she decided to tackle Europe next, starting with the United Kingdom, as English was still it's predominant language and it seemed to her that Richie didn't speak another language, and hadn't had the time to learn one. After the UK was a dead end, she took the Chunnel to France and searched through every patch of burial ground in the country until she made her way south to Paris. This was the last cemetery in the city for her to check. 

As she walked through it, Friday glanced at some of the headstones and felt sorry for the mass of mortals planted there for all eternity. Some of them were so young when they died.

**MARGARET LEBLANC**  
**PRECIOUS DAUGHTER**  
**SIX MONTHS OLD **

How could a six year old actually savor life? It was so sad being in cemeteries. Friday liked to see mortals alive and living. She was again wondering how Richie could have lost his life so young when her radar suddenly kicked in. He was here! She just knew it. Her feelings took over control of her feet and before long, she made a beeline for his grave. 

**RICHIE RYAN**  
**22 YEARS**  
**FRIEND**

Friday smiled, having finally found him. She waited for the only people in the vicinity, an older couple with a bouquet of flowers, leave before she could complete Richie's wish. The couple's trek ended at a gravestone just kitty corner from Richie's. Friday was invisible, but what she had to do wouldn't be. Since she couldn't do anything until they left, told Richie, "You can wait another few minutes, right?"

The older woman started crying, her husband put his arm protectively over her as she wracked with mournful sobs. Friday moseyed over behind them and looked at the headstone:

**ROBERT AUBERJONOIS  
BELOVED SON**  
**1970 - 1998**

Friday could feel herself choking up with the sadness the woman felt, and had to take her leave. Suddenly, she was standing on a beach in Jamaica. Friday took her mink off and laid it on the sand, sat on a lounge chair and sobbed for Robert's mother's pain. The hot breeze licked her face as she reflected on what mortals had to go through. Friday only liked to see them light and happy. Like the young, newly married couple laughing and slapping water at each other in the waist high tide. Or the kids making sand castles on the shoreline. Then she realized she'd never made a sand castle the old fashioned way. She'd only used magic. Friday may have been missing things in life. 

When a guy was ready to sit on her lounge chair because she was invisible, Friday grabbed her mink and disappeared, just seconds before he flopped down and opened his novel.

When Friday returned to the Paris cemetery, the sun was going down and the old couple had left. The flowers they left for Robert were kitty wompus in the vase at his grave so she straightened them. Then walked to Richie's grave. "Well, this is going to be interesting," she told herself and hiked up her sleeves to get busy.

After taking one last look around to see if there were witnesses, and comfortable that there weren't any, she cracked her knuckles and stretched. With a wave of her hand, the snow and dirt that covered Richie's coffin swirled and disappeared. Friday looked over the edge, uneasy. She never dealt with dead bodies before. She took a breath and looked down at the coffin as it's lid flipped open. She covered her mouth as the smell assaulted the air. Her eyes teared up. The snow at her feet swirled with her displeasure. She brushed her nose and waved her hand. Suddenly the air was filled with the smell of fresh cut roses.

Friday looked down into the coffin again. It was too dark. A flashlight appeared in her hand and she flicked it on, then let it hover in the air focused on Richie. Inside the coffin was a body, a head, and... a sword. Very decomposed. Richie obviously hadn't been embalmed. She waved her hand and nothing happened. For a second, she wondered if the wish he asked for wasn't kosher. He wasn't alive. Then remembered his rules of immortality. His head needed to be attached. 

Friday took a deep breath to prepare herself for being so close to a corpse and didn't want to be in the ground, in a coffin, with a corpse. What if there was an earthquake? A blast of wind that would slam the lid shut, trapping her inside. With a corpse. And a sword. Licking her finger, she tested strength of the wind. It was calm after the snowfall, and was from the north. If it did blow hard, it would keep the lid open, not slam it shut. To be on the safe side, she made the lid disappear.

Friday waved her hand and put herself down in Richie's coffin, latex gloves appeared on each of her hands. She bent down and moved his head closer to his body for his wish to come true. Marvin was attached when he died and she didn't have to manipulate him. The severed ends of Richie's spinal column touched. "I hope you appreciate this," she shivered at the gruesome task.

She stood up, feet next to Richie's hip and waved her hand again. Bright lights appeared and she swept herself back up to the ground out of the way. Sparks and lights flooded out of the coffin. She did it! It worked! She couldn't wait to see Richie again. Friday picked herself up onto her feet and saw a groundskeeper with a shovel in his hand, shocked at the light show coming out of a grave. 

Friday waved her hand and the man fell to the ground. Couldn't have witnesses. He'd awake in the morning and not remember a thing. But, the mortal would probably freeze to death if he stayed out in the elements all night. In an instant, the groundskeeper was encased in a nice thick sleeping bag with a goose-down pillow.

The light show over Richie's grave was astounding and even Friday was in awe of the power. It had to be a force that was not mere magic of a wish coming true. It must have something to do with that immortal angle Richie talked about. When the lights and snow and dirt and smoke in the air dissipated, Friday looked over the edge again, moved the floating flashlight to be able to see. Richie sat up. Naked. Held his sword, confused. 

She waved her hand and suddenly, Richie stood next to her, still holding onto the sword. Not at all modest about his nakedness. "Hi!" Friday smiled. There was no reaction from him. She waved her hand in front of his face. No reaction. "Richie?"

The man wobbled, "Who?"

"Richie Ryan?"

He stood and processed it all. Looked at the headstone. "Looks like Richie Ryan is dead."

"No, you are standing right there."

"Me? I'm dead?"

"Not anymore." She was as confused as he was as she'd never given life to a really dead person. Only Marvin who wanted to be a cat, and knew what he was after turning. Richie seemed to be a shell. Oops! Something must have gone wrong.

Richie was turning red, then blue, but didn't feel a thing. He looked around and saw that he was in a cemetery. "What am I doing here?"

"Well, you can talk, and can read, that is a good sign," Friday smiled, hopeful. "Maybe you just need time to figure it all out." She couldn't give him his thoughts, because she really didn't know him, and didn't want to give him the wrong ones.

"Who are you?"

"Turns out, I'm your only friend right now." Richie looked so lost, cold. Friday put her mink coat around him when it looked like he was going to cry. She'd never had such a reaction to a granted wish before. It was only after wishes didn't turn out like they wanted did the wisher became despondent. "Do you remember anything? You are immortal, remember?"

"A what?"

"Where are you from?"

"I don't know."

"Why were you buried in Paris?"

Richie looked at the sword and dropped it. He was in sorry shape. "I don't know!"

"Oh, Richie," Friday groaned. "I did not see this coming."

They looked at each other. Richie pulled the coat around him, "Who are you?"

"My name is Friday. You do not remember me? Or your wish? I have not cleared your thoughts yet." He only stared at her dumbfounded. Since she made sure she was Master-free after getting the sign of Richie's death, she at least hoped to be able to talk to the young man, that he would know her. "Tell you what," she said. An antique teak and jade encrusted box appeared in her hand. She opened the golden latch and said, "I am going to get into this. And you open it. Then you will be my Master. I am a jinniyah without a Master right now and you are a body without a mind. We can help each other out. Okay?"

Richie smiled, looked at her large frame. "You're going to get into that little box? I don't think so."

She was flabbergasted at the plus sized joke. Richie in New York would never stoop to such a level. He had to get his memory back, and quick! "Just open the box!" 

Friday disappeared and the box fell to the ground locked. Richie looked around, still thoroughly confused. Grossed out by the open coffin when he looked over the edge. Amused at the hovering flashlight. When he touched it, it fell to the ground. There wasn't anyone around but some old guy in a sleeping bag. What the hell was going on? He picked up the box. Heavy! He laughed, that big woman must be in there. This was all too weird. How did he get in a cemetery in the middle of the night? Where was he before? Who was he? He had no idea. 

He finally flipped up the latch and the force of Friday's escape made him drop it. After the smoke cleared, he saw the lady standing in front of him again. "How did you do that? You were in that box!"

"And it was very uncomfortable," Friday yelled as she paced, snow swirling up around her, fire escaping from her arms. "What took you so long? I almost thought you were a trickster and you trapped me in there on purpose! I should know better than get myself into close spaces! I **_hate_** close places!"

She looked at the young man wrapped in her coat and realized he did the best he could with the mind he had. She pulled at the skin on her arms and contained the fires of anger she had felt and took a deep breath. "Okay, I will go through what I know for you, Master. I am a jinniyah. You released me. You now have three wishes."

"What?"

"I am a genie, Richie." She put her hands in front of her, locked them on her elbows and blinked while jutting down her head, just like Jeannie.

"You're not Barbara Eden!"

"We are not having this conversation again."

"I get three wishes?" For the first time since emerging from his coffin, Richie was happy, smiling. 

"Yes. I see you did not lose your genie lore in whatever happened to your mind. And you have a vocabulary. That is very interesting. You just do not know who you are for some reason."

"I'm naked." He finally realized under that coat.

"Yes. Wish number one might be to get some clothes."

"Okay."

"Say it."

"Clothes."

"I wish... ," she prodded him.

"I wish I had some clothes."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Richie was pushed to the ground by the weight of an assortment of jeans, T-shirts, suits, silk shirts, suits, trousers, underwear, coats of all shapes, fabrics and lengths. All the things he could ever want. Then a Samsonite suitcase hit him in the head.

Richie rubbed at the bump the suitcase made on his forehead and yelled, "Hey!"

"You know, I could have been difficult and given you a bunch of ball gowns. You were not very specific! Pick what you want and put something on while I finish up here."

He picked through the clothes, wondering if he was dreaming. He couldn't remember where he last was, so he couldn't tell. He pulled on a black t-shirt while Friday straightened up his grave, removing every last trace that he was even there. The tombstone was gone and smooth, untouched, hibernating grass was under a bed of freshly fallen snow where his grave had once been.

Richie was straightening the leather jacket on his body when she turned around. "Figures," she moaned. "Of all the things I gave you, you chose jeans and a T-shirt."

"I'm comfortable."

"Pick what you want, only what will fit in the suitcase."

He packed it with all the nice stuff. When he tried to shut the suitcase, there was too much, so he took out socks until it shut. As soon as the locks clicked, the rest of the clothes from his wish disappeared.

"Hey! What about the other stuff?"

"They are not yours. You can only take what you can carry with you. You should be happy I gave you a suitcase."

"How about shoes?"

"You want to waste your second wish on shoes?"

"No. I'll get them from somewhere."

"No stealing," Friday was adamant. "If you do anything illegal, all wishes are null and void. Even the one that made it possible for you to be standing here."

"You didn't tell me that."

"I am telling you now."

"Wishes are really null and void automatically if I take a stupid pair of shoes, even it if's a ten dollar pair at Walmart?"

"Well, not really," Friday had to concede. "I just do not like thieves."

"Then why didn't you give me shoes! It's cold."

"Shoes and clothes are not the same thing. In fact, I threw in the underwear and coat."

"Thank you."

"You are welcome." Friday realized she had been a little short with him because of being trapped in that box for so long. It really wasn't his fault and she shouldn't have taken it out on him. She looked at the sword still laying where Richie dropped it. "Why were you buried with a sword?"

"I have no idea."

"Is it a custom? Something that immortals use?"

"What's an immortal?"

"Okay. We have a problem." She rubbed her neck, "I knew there would be problems. There are always problems. Who can we talk to about immortals?" She slapped her forehead. "Oh, shoot, I made a mistake."

"A genie can make a mistake?"

"So sue me. I wiped out all traces with the cemetery that you were ever here. So, we cannot find out who paid for your funeral. There is nobody that I can think of to ask what you are and why and all that. I did not realize you would lose your memory! Why would you lose your memory? You seem to remember everything else, just... not who you are."

"Should I make my next wish, my memory to return?"

"No, Master, you do not know your memories. You have to know what it is that you are wishing for."

"There are a lot of rules to this."

"I did not think it would come up." She paced in the snow, making it swirl around her. "This did not happen with Marvin, so it has to be immortality that made you forget."

"Great, where does that leave me?"

"Did you have any friends?"

"I don't know."

"On your tombstone it read, 'Friend'."

"Then I guess I had friends."

"I wonder if they would visit you two years after your death. Someone? Anyone?"

"I don't know," Richie moaned. The sense of hopelessness flooded him. He was scared and alone. "I hope so. What do we do?"

"Well, wait, I guess. We have all the time in the world."

"We do?"

"Yes. I am a jinniyah. You are an immortal. As long as you do not lose your head and you do not wish me to be mortal, we are going to live."

"But that would be **_your_** wish, wouldn't it?"

"What?"

Richie told her, "To be made mortal. Free."

"Why would I want that?"

"Well, they all do."

"Who does?"

"In movies." Richie thought, "In that kid movie, Aladdin! Genie wanted to be set free."

"I am free when I do not have a Master. I do not get a new Master if I do not want one. I like helping people. It makes me feel needed. That is the movies, Richie. I am real. Do not wish me mortal," she warned. "You have two more wishes."

Richie paced with her and thought, then said, "I wish..."

"Stop! You do not know what you are wishing for."

"I want a visitor."

"But you would not know who to ask for. It could be another immortal who would take your head again."

"Why would someone take my head?"

"You are the immortal, I do not know." Suddenly she rethought that afternoon in New York. "Why did I go to that bar? I should have gone to Bali and gotten a massage."

She stewed about it. Richie took her hand and softly said, "But then, I wouldn't be here. I'd be in there," he pointed to where his grave was. "Thank you."

Friday was shocked. No one ever thanked her before. Especially not a Master. She knew he was a good guy when she saw him, "You are welcome, Master."

Richie liked the title she bestowed on him, but his mind was still spinning. It was a big empty shell. "Tell me who I am."

"I really do not know. I only found out your last name when I saw your tombstone."

Richie reflected on the ground where he laid for two years and wished he would have been able to see that tombstone for himself. He looked so lost and sad, Friday almost felt like she was going to start bawling again. "I am sorry, Master. I should have asked more questions before granting your wish, but I did not know the questions to ask."

Richie picked up the mink coat and put it around her shoulders. "This cemetery is creeping me out. Let's go for a walk and you tell me everything you know about me again. Maybe something will pop." He picked up the suitcase and took her hand. "And maybe I can trade a nice silk shirt for a pair of boots."

Friday smiled, "Now, that is the right thought. Stealing gets you no where. What kind of boots would you like?"

"Timberlanes?" Richie stumbled, instantly, a black pair were on his feet. "Thank you. So, I only have one wish left?"

"No, two. That was a gift." They were to the gates of the cemetery when Friday stopped them. "Maybe we should hang around here. Someone might come around to visit you one day and we should be here when that happens."

"Okay," Richie said, putting the suitcase down. Instinctively, he felt safe there, but didn't know why. "But it's cold."

Suddenly, they were on the beach in Jamaica. "It would not hurt to warm you up for a minute," Friday said as she once again pealed her coat off and basked in the hot sun. "And get a drink." She grabbed two pina coladas from a tray of drinks as a waiter passed by. 

The waiter stopped when he distinctly saw two glasses float in air, then disappear. He counted the drinks on the tray, and there were four, like he set on it at the bar. He looked up at the hot sun, and wondered if he was out in it too long.

* * *

**SEPTEMBER 20, 1998**

Joe Dawson walked into the cemetery with a heavy heart and flowers to lay on Richie's grave. He had to admit to himself that it was a hard trek to make every year on the kid's birthday, but he thought he remembered where he was buried. Joe couldn't find it. He looked at the other tombstones and remembered Carl Dubois that was right next to Richie's! What happened? Where Richie's grave had been was an open space. 

Joe marched to the office to see what happened to his friend's grave. The secretary was startled by Joe's request, but looked up on the computer where a Richie Ryan was. Seeing nothing, she looked up Richard Ryan. "Did he go by another name, sir?"

"No."

She was hesitant to tell the man, "There's no Richie Ryan in this cemetery. Are you sure you have the right one?"

"Of course, I'm sure," Joe was getting more angry every minute. "I made the arrangements!" 

"And your name?"

"Joe Dawson."

She looked it up. Nothing.

Joe couldn't believe the ineptitude of the cemetery's system, "Did you move him?"

"No, sir. According to the files, there's never been a Richie Ryan in this cemetery. Do you have the name wrong?"

"No! I was at his funeral. I put flowers," he waved the ones in his hands around. "On his grave on his birthday! Where is he?"

"I'll get the manager of the cemetery, sir. Just wait right here." She was out the door.

Friday appeared in the corner of the office and walked to the boisterous man at the counter. "Excuse me, sir. Can I talk to you?"

"I want to talk to whoever's in charge!"

"That would be me," Friday quietly told him. "Please, sir. Come with me. I have answers **_for_** you and I sure want answers **_from_** you."

Before Joe knew what happened, he was back outside, with the lady standing next to him. Surprised, he lost his footing and she held him to keep him from falling. "What the hell is going on here!"

"You know Richie Ryan?"

He paused, looked at her. "Yes."

"Are you good friends?"

"Yes, who are you?"

"I am happy to find you, but not as happy as you are going to be. I have a hell of a surprise for you." She pointed down the lane at Richie, smiling that someone finally came to see him. 

Joe blinked, then blinked again. He intoned, "Richie?"

Richie smiled and held out his hands, shrugged. He still didn't know anything of his life, only what he experienced since he got out of that grave. He walked to Joe, and Joe thought he was in the Twilight Zone, clutched onto Friday to keep from fainting. 

Richie stuck out his hand in greeting, "Hello. What's your name?"

"Joe. I'm Joe!" Joe pulled him into a hug. "How did this happen? Are you really Richie? Richie Ryan?"

Richie was surprised by the hug, but was happy someone knew him, and finally paid his grave a visit. "That's what she tells me."

Joe stepped back and looked at Richie's face. There wasn't a hint of remembrance in his face. "What do you mean?"

"Joe," Friday said. "Richie has lost his memory."

"He lost more than that," Joe stepped back, wondering if this was a demon's prank again. That Ahriman somehow came back to life. "He lost his head."

"Yes. I was able to take care of that," Friday said.

"You?" Joe looked at the strange woman with a feather holding her wild black hair up on one side and thick glasses that slid down her nose. "How?"

"He made a wish. I am a jinniyah." He looked at the woman from her frizzy black hair to her stubby, worn sneakers on her feet. Before he could say anything, she said, "No, I am not Barbara Eden."

* * *

**BAR**

They took Joe to a quiet place where they could talk and Friday explained only as much as she needed to make him believe her and the events that made it possible for Richie to be sitting there sipping a draft. Joe could only stare at his young friend. "You were dead, man."

"Yeah. I got another chance, thanks to Friday."

"It was your wish, Richie. I did not do anything."

A slow smile crept on Joe's face as he asked Friday, "Can I have a wish?"

"I can only serve one Master at a time. Joe, Richie does not know who he is or what he is. Do you?"

"Yeah," Joe smiled. "I know everything about you, Rich."

Friday was excited, "You know about immortals?"

"Yeah."

"Are you an immortal?"

"No."

"But you know about them and about Richie."

"Yes."

"Great. Tell him."

Richie looked to the older man for answers. Anything. Joe situated himself in his chair and started, "Well, you were turned in Seacouver."

"Turned?"

Joe was surprised such a simple part of immortality was lost on the immortal. "Yes, you experienced your first death, making you immortal. You were mugged with Tessa."

The name meant nothing to Richie, "Who's Tessa?"

Joe paused, "Oh, boy. You don't know anything."

"That's what we've been trying to tell you," Richie slammed his wrist on the table in frustration. When someone finally came to visit him, his hopes were up. But there was so much he didn't know about his life. Something as simple as a woman's name threw him. Tessa? Was she a girlfriend? Wife? Sister? Mother? Enemy?

Joe had to explain all about Immortals and Watchers to them both, and how Richie fit into the picture. The names Joe mentioned didn't mean a thing to him. Immortality, the game, the gathering, it all was like a fairytale. But, Richie sat back and listened to everything Joe had to say.

After a couple of more drinks, Joe came to the event he and Mac had tried to come to terms with. "He thought you were Ahriman when he took your head."

"My teacher?" Richie sat back shocked. From Joe's telling, Richie was looking forward to meeting this Duncan MacLeod, proud that such a man was his friend and teacher. "My friend killed me?"

"Mac didn't mean to," Joe said. "He thought you were something else. Different forms kept being revealed to him. Even though he saw you, he thought it was a mind trick from Ahriman."

"Tricksters!" Friday groaned. "They are the bane of existence." She tapped her glass to freshen her pina colada, then offered to fill Joe's scotch. 

He turned it down and concentrated on Richie, "Mac would never hurt you. When he figured out what he did... he spent a year on holy ground. He was ready to give up his place in the game. We both mourned you, Richie. We still **_are_** mourning you." Then he smiled. "Were. I can't believe you're sitting in front of me. You look just like you did when... it happened."

"Yeah," Friday laughed. "I was so nervous he would have to walk around a shrunken blob of a corpse with flies swarming around him and..." they weren't joining in on her visual, so she cleared her throat and asked Richie, "So, now you know who you are. Is anything ringing a bell?"

"No."

Joe painfully asked, "Don't you remember me?"

Richie stared at him, really wanted to, but had to admit, "No."

Friday was still confused. "How could you lose your memory? That did not happen to Marvin."

"Who's Marvin?" Joe asked.

"A guy I turned into a cat."

"I take it," Joe smiled. "He wasn't an immortal."

"No. I had never even heard of immortals until I met Richie."

"Ah," Joe sighed. "I think I've got it. Quickenings," he said, as if that explained everything to them. "You lost your quickening to Mac."

Friday said, "The essence that you talked about. That is the answer, Master! Your essence went into the winner, right? That is how it works? Well, you have to take the head of this Mac person, and you will get your thoughts back."

Joe said, "He can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Mac's a friend."

"Well," Friday chuckled. "Some friend! He took Richie's head. Tit for tat."

"By accident."

"Okay," Friday said, but was confused. All she cared about was Richie. It did seem like a simple solution though.

"You need a sword, Richie," Joe said. "You're immortal. If you forgot who you are, you've forgotten your training."

"I don't have a sword."

All of a sudden, the one he was buried with appeared in his hand, and he sliced Friday in the arm. "Ow!" She rubbed the wound away. "Be careful with that thing."

"Where did it come from?"

"I figured you would want or need it since you were buried with it, so I kept it for safe keeping."

"You could warn me you're going to make it appear," Richie said. "I could have hit Joe."

"It does not work like that."

"Rules!" Richie stood up, at the end of his rope. "I'm tired of rules!"

The bartender told them to hold it down and put that sword away or he was going to call the cops. They made a fast exit. In fact, extremely fast. In an instant, they were all on the sidewalk a couple of blocks away.

Joe snapped at Friday, "Would you quit doing that?"

Richie ambled down the sidewalk, not knowing how to take the information Joe had given them. He actually wondered if it would have been better to not know anything. His best friend took his head? His teacher? Joe yelled for him to stop and couldn't catch up, so Friday waved her hand and Richie was frozen on the sidewalk. Joe smiled at Friday, "Thanks."

When he caught up to Richie, he suggested, "Let's go see Mac. He's at the barge. He's going to shit when he sees you!"

"So he can take my head again? No way!" Richie tried to move, but couldn't. He yelled at Friday, "Would you stop it?"

"Would you like to make moving your feet your second wish, Master?"

"No!"

"Then no. Listen to Mr. Dawson."

"Mac's your friend, Richie," Joe told him. "It was an accident. He needs to know you're alive! He can help figure out what to do."

"He has your thoughts, Richie," Friday reminded him. "It might be a good idea."

"Might be?" Richie echoed. "Something'll go wrong."

* * *

**BARGE**

Amanda was making supper and playing music on the stereo as Duncan was sitting on the couch with a scrap book in his lap. Richie's birthday had hit him hard. When Joe asked if he wanted to go with him to visit the his grave, he couldn't do it. The guilt of ending his student's life so suddenly still gnawed at him. 

Amanda was trying to be cheerful, lighten the Highlander's mood, but was getting no where. She thought she'd have to dance the dance of the seven veils to get his attention, but then, didn't want to be ignored after such a display. 

Duncan flipped the page in the scrapbook and the smiling faces of Tessa Noel and Richie Ryan appeared. He brushed his finger along Tessa's cheekbone, and placed his hand over Richie's chest, hoping to get some feeling from the pixels of color that formed them on the paper. Two friends that filled his life so fully were gone in an instant with a mugger's bullet and a short swing of his katana. If only he could have those seconds the mugger pulled the trigger and when he swung at Ahriman back. If only... 

They both felt a buzz, then heard a groan outside. Joe stumbled through the door, "Mac! You aren't going to believe it!" Duncan fell to the floor, doubled up, like his insides were on fire. Screams ignited within his brain and every nerve in his body.

On the deck, Friday helped Richie as he needed to sit down, sick to his stomach. He couldn't breath, his head was spinning. As soon as he was settled on the deck, he folded himself into a fetal position and screamed, "Make it stop!"

Amanda came to the doorway and about fell down when she saw a man who looked exactly like Richie moaning on the deck. "Richie?"

Friday told him, "Something is wrong with him. He got sick all of a sudden. Do you know what it is about?"

Joe appeared behind Amanda and said, "Oh, I forgot to tell him that part. It must be your buzz."

Amanda was shocked, "That's Richie?" She knelt beside him and touched his arm. "Richie? Is that really you?"

Friday said, "It is Richie Ryan in the flesh."

Amanda stared at the frizzy haired woman. "Who are you?"

"My name is Friday," she said with a pleasant smile, extending her hand. Amanda slowly shook her hand and stared at Richie as if in a trance.

Richie started to feel better and sat up, a little embarrassed. When he had walked up that plank, granted, he was feeling apprehensive about meeting his killer, but didn't think he'd get dizzy, weak and feel like he was going to throw up. It came on so suddenly, then just as instantly, faded. Amanda told him, "It's just our buzz, Richie." She had to smile that she was actually talking to him. "It's an immortal warning radar."

"Warning? From you?" Richie slapped her hand off his arm and told Friday, "Maybe this was a bad idea. I don't want to be here."

"I'm not going to hurt you," Amanda declared. Richie snapped to his feet so fast, she had to back away. He looked exactly the same, and there wasn't even a scar on his neck. How was it all a joke? He couldn't be standing there. He just couldn't. "How are you alive?"

Friday asked, "You are immortal, too?"

Amanda said, "Yes," and couldn't wipe the smile of joy off her face. She grabbed Richie into a hug, which he got himself out of. She was cute, but he couldn't help but think he'd gotten himself into danger. 

Friday asked, "You can feel when other immortals are around you?"

"Yes."

"Cool!"

Amanda said, "You know that, Richie." She didn't like that he was inching away from her like she had the plague. She asked the mysterious woman, "Who are you?"

"I am Richie's friend."

"My **_only_** friend," Richie corrected her. "Friday's like my guardian angel."

"No, Master," Friday corrected him. "Angels are on a higher plane than jinn."

"I want to get outta here. Let's go."

"But, you can't!" Joe extended his cane in front of Richie before he could take off down the plank. "These are your friends, your family. This is Amanda, and Mac is right inside. I don't know where Adam is, but we're all friends here, Richie."

Duncan's agony subsided and he slowly picked himself up off the floor. In over four hundred years of his life, he hadn't ever felt that sensation before, like his soul was talking to him, but he couldn't make out the words. When he recognized voices outside, he moved dazed to the door. As soon as he saw the face of the young man by Joe, Duncan fell against the doorway. He had to be dreaming! "Richie?" Richie looked at Duncan as if he was a total stranger. His student was right there in the flesh! "You're alive?"

"You're Mac?"

Duncan could only nod.

Richie spouted, "I'm alive no thanks to you!"

"You are Duncan MacLeod?" Friday asked.

They all nodded. Richie said, "I'm outta here."

"Richie," Friday stopped him. "He has your thoughts. You should be a little more respectful."

"I what?"

"You took his quickening," Friday told Duncan. "Everything he knows is inside of you."

"Maybe I want my thoughts back!" Richie whipped out his sword. "Maybe I should take your head, you bastard!"

Duncan cowered back, "It was a mistake."

"I can take you by mistake, too!"

Duncan's soul rumbled up again with the growing anger of Richie. He was talking to him inside his body, echoed with every word Richie said, making him fall again. Richie swooped over him with the sword.

Amanda grabbed Richie's sword hand and yelled, "No!"

Joe said, "Everyone settle down. Let's go inside. People could hear us." Watchers were probably out there and he was standing there with known immortals. Joe had retired from the organization, but he didn't want anyone to get the idea he was friends with them. Knowing Amanda's and Duncan's new watcher out there, he hadn't planned on visiting Duncan at his home. They would just run into each other in a public place, or talk on the phone. But Richie's return made him waltz right to Mac's door.

"You know what?" Richie yelled. "I wish--."

Friday took Richie's sword from him and clasped her hand over his mouth, "You should not wish anything right now. Believe me, Master. You will only regret a wish made in the heat of the moment."

"What are you talking about," Amanda asked.

"We need to exchange information," Friday told them all as they stood out on the deck. "Let us go inside like Mr. Dawson suggested and talk calmly."

After they got Richie comfortably seated in the closed space of the barge, they sat around the table. The conversation consisted of everyone being filled in with immortality, Jinn, how Richie lost his head, his wish and how he revived. All during that time, Duncan couldn't stop staring at Richie and Amanda couldn't help staring at Friday. "I know you," she finally said, shaking her finger at the jinniyah. "I know I've seen you somewhere before."

Friday lightly asked, "Have you ever been to Djakarta?"

"No."

"Me, neither." Friday and Richie smiled because after spending seven months with her, he appreciated her humor. Amanda didn't, so she admitted, "You look familiar, too."

"How old are you?"

"What a thing to ask a lady," Friday put her hand on her chest in mock surprise. "I could ask the same of you."

"I'm 1200 years old," Amanda proudly stated for the record.

"Oo! Goodness," Friday looked the skinny immortal up and down. "You are well preserved."

"Thank you. And you are?"

"Older than that," was all Friday would divulge.

"How old?"

"Old as the hills."

"Come on," Amanda kept prodding.

Even Richie was interested so Friday said, "Okay. I am..." she paused to calculate. "According to your calendar, I will be 2,391 next month."

Duncan wasn't interested in the conversation and once again, had to touch Richie's arm to make sure he was real. Richie jerked back and spouted, "For the eightieth time, I'm really alive, Mac."

Duncan's gut echoed with every word of Richie's but was mellowing. Richie was calm. "I'm so sorry, Richie..." He tried to tell him every grief-filled, mournful thought he'd had since taking his head, but couldn't go on. 

The pain on Duncan's face finally registered with Richie and he sighed, "Thank you. Good thing I got that wish."

"Good thing you were nice to me at the bar or you would not have," Friday reminded him. "It always pays to be nice."

"It's really a new start," Duncan mused, ignoring everyone and focused only on Richie. "I can be your friend and teacher again."

"I don't know," Richie muttered. "I'm not sure I can trust you with a sword."

"Of course you can, Rich. Let me make it up to you."

"Okay, give me your head."

Friday said, "Master!"

"Humor. A joke," Richie shrugged.

Duncan sat back like he was punched in the stomach with that remark. Joe and Amanda both replied at the same time, "It wasn't funny."

"I've got it!" Amanda finally figured it out, and pointed her finger at Friday. "You were in the court of Edward II. You were the fire eater."

"That would be more than likely," Friday nodded.

"You were thin then."

"Yes. What of it?"

"I don't mean..."

"I was locked in a Faberge egg for 77 years. I was very hungry. I swore I would never be hungry again. Whenever I take on a skinny form, I am hungry all the time. This is the shape I am comfortable with so deal with it."

"I didn't mean that. I just meant, it took me a while to figure out where I knew you from."

Joe asked Friday, quite amused, "A Faberge egg?"

"It was not pleasant."

"If you're a genie," Joe started.

"If?" Friday thought they were beyond that point, but she wasn't going to resort to parlor tricks.

Joe said, "You can take Richie's memories from Mac and put them into Richie."

"No, I cannot."

"Why not?"

"Richie does not know what his memories are. It is his wish, his thoughts, his memories. He has to know what he is wishing for. If what you said about immortals is true, I could get one of the others MacLeod has taken and put into Master. Then were would we be? He would have ruined one wish."

Duncan didn't think Kronos or Caspian would do well in Richie's body. Well, Kronos and Caspian would have a field day, but no one else would. That had to be Richie's essence talking to him from inside that made him sick. He'd never come across an immortal he'd taken. That had to be it. "How about... if I wished that Richie's thoughts were back with him?"

"I can only serve one Master at a time."

"No," Richie said. "You were serving another Master when you gave me my one wish. Why not give him one?"

Friday debated it. "Well, Master. My first goal is to serve you. When I gave you that wish, it had nothing to do with my current Master. That is why I did it. If I were to give a wish to him, it would have to do with you. And... I am sorry to confess... I do not trust you, Mr. MacLeod. You killed my Master once. I cannot let you fool with his head anymore."

Duncan felt like he'd landed in a surreal world. He was Richie's teacher. His best friend. His mentor. Richie told him many times he wanted to be just like him 'when he grew up'. Now neither he or **_his genie_**__ trusted him. But he could see their point. They didn't know him, as much as it pained Duncan to admit.

Amanda suggested, "Why don't we tell Richie what all we know and then he'll know what his memories are and he can fish through Mac's head with his wish and find them for himself?"

Friday quickly asked her, "Have you known Richie since his birth?"

"No."

"There are events and thoughts you were not privy to. It will get all confused. Trust me, it will be a wasted wish, or worse than you can possibly imagine."

Duncan hopefully said, "But, he'd remember everything since he became immortal. That's the important part."

Friday only looked at him. "Mr. MacLeod, would you want all traces of your life before you met Richie erased? Would you want your personality to be only what others tell you it is? That would not be your memory or you. And, the thoughts could be skewed. Maybe what Richie was thinking was not what you thought he was thinking at the time."

"I'm trying to help."

"Thanks, Mac," Richie said. "I'm just going to have to start living from now on. I remember our summer," he smiled to Friday. "I'm not positive, but I'm pretty sure I never had lunch on top of Mount Everest before."

"You have to start training again, Rich," Joe said. "You have to prepare for the game."

"Me," Duncan was insistent. "I will teach you again."

Richie debated it then they felt a buzz. Duncan rushed to the door as it opened, to protect them all as he wasn't expecting any visitors and Richie couldn't defend himself at the moment.

Methos pushed open the door as Duncan got to it and they landed in a hug. "Nice to see you too," he smiled, looked around at the people.

"**_Trickster_**!" Ostrich feathers flew from her hair. Friday was out of her seat, then like that, she disappeared. The feathers fluttering to the floor.

"What the..." Methos said, then saw Richie, who was sick from the new, sudden buzz of Methos. "Richie?"

Amanda was rubbing Richie's head since he collapsed against her, "In the flesh."

Methos eyes popped out. He'd seen it all. At least once. But reattached beheaded immortals? Never. "How?"

"Magic," Amanda explained. 

Richie sat up a little embarrassed for not handling what Duncan and Amanda took for granted. He looked at the new arrival, "And you are?"

Joe said, "This is Adam. Another friend of yours."

Adam didn't look for familiar to Richie than any of them. Duncan's gut rumbled as Richie's memory did recognize him. Richie stood up suddenly alone and vulnerable in a room full of strangers. "Where did she go? I need her! Friday!"

The ticked off jinniyah appeared at the door to the bathroom. "Not until he leaves." Then she disappeared again in a puff of smoke.

"Methos?" Joe said. "What did you do to her?"

"Who?"

"Friday!" They all said.

Richie Ryan was standing there in the flesh. Because there was something in this world that he couldn't get his head around, Methos grabbed Richie's arms and shook him, "How are you in the land of the living?"

Richie shook him off, "What's a Methos?"

"Me."

"I thought you said his name was Adam," Richie asked Joe.

"They're one and the same."

Richie looked at Methos in the eye, "Why do you have to go around with a fake name?"

"It keeps me interesting," Methos said, grabbing a beer from the fridge. "Now really, how are you here? We saw you... Joe and I saw Mac take your head, we saw your quickening go into him."

Duncan's gut rumbled violently. The words Methos said sunk into Richie and he was ticked, "My friends were standing around while another 'friend' took my head?! Who are you people?! Friday!"

Friday appeared, "Are you ready to leave, Master?"

"No," they all told her, but Richie. She looked at her Master. It was his word that she had to obey. 

Joe said, "Let's just sit down and talk again. We were getting somewhere before you showed up," he knocked Methos against the head.

"I always did know how to make an entrance," Methos smiled. Then looked at Friday standing on Duncan's bed, overlooking them all. She seemed real. As real as Richie. He had to hand it to MacLeod, he certainly did a great prank this time.

Joe nudged Richie back to his chair, "Come on, Richie. Let's talk this out."

"Okay," Richie sat, then told Friday. "You don't go anywhere."

"Is that your second wish?"

"No."

"I am not staying while he is here," she said, then disappeared again.

Methos asked in wonder, "How do you do that?"

After they explained it all to Methos. He didn't know this Friday person, and actually thought them all mad to believe in a jinniyah. Whenever Richie would call for her, she had to appear, but would disappear just as quickly when she caught a glimpse of the 'trickster'. Methos tried to get a look at her to place her when Richie would call her, but she would disappear so fast, he couldn't tell who she was. Or, if she was even real. They liked to play little tricks on the oldest man and he wasn't going to fall for it. He got up for another beer and sat back down, accidentally kicking the leg of the table. The table jumped and moved over, knocking over all the glasses, except Methos' beer, which he still clutched in his hand. As they all grabbed their glasses and towels to wipe up the mess, Methos just sat back and sipped his beer. 

Joe put his hands on the table, "It's warm."

Richie felt the warmth, but just as suddenly, was cold as she left the form. "She can be inanimate objects." He smiled as he went out to the deck to talk to her so she wouldn't disappear again. "Friday?"

She appeared, and stayed visible. He was so glad to see her, Richie grabbed her into a hug. "Don't leave like that anymore. I need you. You can't leave me alone with them."

"You were not alone, Master. I was there all the time. I was the table."

"I know."

"When is he leaving?"

"Adam, or Methos?"

"What a jerk."

"What did he do to you?"

Instead of answering, Friday was lost in thought, "I wonder if he would like to be a toad."

"Friday," Richie laughed. "Come inside. He can't hurt you."

"He is a trickster. He tricked me. That does not happen often and I do not like it."

"I'll make sure he doesn't do anything. Come inside. Just, don't do anything to him."

"That sounds like an order."

"No, I'm asking."

Friday smiled and liked her Master very much. "Okay." As soon as they walked back into the barge and she passed Methos' chair, she stuck a finger in his face and warned, "Do not mess with me." 

Methos batted her finger away and giggled, "I wouldn't dream of it."

"Yes, you would. Do not be pleasant. I hate when tricksters are pleasant."

Methos was amused by the tale they told about the weird woman, and her reaction to him. He smiled at her and asked, "Disappear again."

"I do not do parlor tricks for tricksters. I know you don't believe what I am. I heard every word you said. You just have to behave."

Methos smiled as he sipped his beer again. "What is your definition of a trickster?"

"What else do you call a person who tricks you. I thought you would be dead by now. You are immortal too? Figures. How many immortals are there anyway?"

"We have no way of knowing."

Joe said, "Well, up to last year, the database was at over 2000 active."

All immortals asked, "Really?"

Friday kept an eye on Methos for any quick movements. What irritated her even more was that he stared back. Duncan was relieved that he was able to convince Richie that being his student would be his best chance at surviving the game and promised that his beheading him would never, ever happen again. Friday finished her pina colada and tapped her glass for more.

Methos pointed at her, "I believe that was a parlor trick."

She waved her hand and in an instant, Methos had turned into a large animal, breaking the chair he was sitting on. "I was just waiting for a reason."

"Friday!" Richie jumped back from the table as the animal head butted him. "You turned him into a donkey!"

"No, an ass! Which is what he is."

"Turn him back!"

Friday pleasantly asked, "Is that your next wish, Master?"

"No. That's an order. Turn him back."

Instantly, Methos was sitting on the floor, not knowing how or why he was sitting on a broken chair and everyone was snickering. "What?" Then focused on Friday. "Who are you?!"

"Let me refresh your memory," she waved her hand and instantly she was an exotic, thin woman. Her glasses gone. Her hair long and silky. Wearing a long red cloth cinched at the waist with a cord. 

Methos gasped, "Laminae?"

Friday waved her hand again and she was back to how she wanted to be, pushed her glasses up her nose. "I should be flattered you remember."

Methos couldn't believe it. He knew she wasn't immortal, no buzz. That little waif was an actual jinniyah he ran into just over 2000 years ago?

Amanda said, "He didn't put you in that Faberge egg, did he?"

"No," Friday firmly stated. "If he was, he would still be a jackass, and nobody could talk me into bringing him back. I **_hate_** closed spaces."

Methos stood up and stared at her. "You mean that really was a true wish?"

"Yes! Do you really think you would have accomplished bedding Cleopatra without a little magical intervention?"

Duncan was dumbfounded, "You bedded Cleopatra?"

Methos just shrugged and sat back down. A gentleman doesn't talk about such things. 

Friday was furious to dredge it back up, "I was pulled into Marid tribunal because of that!"

By her hostile demeanor, Methos remarked, "And... I take it that's a bad thing?"

"The worst!"

Amanda had to ask, "How did his tricking you into him bedding Cleopatra get you into trouble?"

"I was Cleopatra's handmaiden, and she was my Master. I gave out a freebie to that one," he flipped a flash of fire at Methos, "because I **_thought_** he had a nice smile. I cannot serve two Masters at the same time. I learned my lesson."

Methos just barely missed getting his head singed when another flare of fire shoot out of her wrist toward him. "Quit that!"

"I had to clean out the ostrich cages for 100 years because of it!"

Methos started laughing. "Well, I've lived long enough to know not to argue with jinn. I'll come out on the wrong side no matter what I say."

"True."

"So, I'll just leave."

"Thank you. And do not come back."

He left. Duncan kicked the broken pieces of the chair away and sat back at the table. "Well, I know I don't have any wishes coming to me, but I sure wish I knew what Cleopatra's three wishes were."

"Oh, I can't divulge such things," Friday piously exclaimed.

Amanda popped her on the arm, "Oh, come on. It's just us."

"Okay," Friday quickly said, sliding her chair closer to the table to tell them. "Her first wish was a gold colored horse." When she saw their faces fall, Friday reminded them, "She was queen, what did she need riches for? A gold colored horse was very rare, and fit for a queen. She thought long and hard about her next two wishes." Friday pleasantly smiled, "For her second, she conceived her child with Julius Caesar. Her last wish was a grand ship with all the luxurious touches for then she would sail out to meet Mark Antony and make a deal after Caesar's murder so she would still be on Egyptian territory and there was not time to have one built. I liked her very much." Friday wiped back tears when she admitted, "Although, I wish she would have wished for a fear of snakes."

She didn't want them to see her bawl, so she disappeared to the Bahamas again to pull herself back together. Joe asked Richie, "How long have you been with her?"

"Seven months."

"When did you meet her?"

Richie shrugged. "In New York, she told me that. Around '95 or so."

Duncan and Joe exchanged glances and Duncan again felt the load of guilt wash over him. "You took off during that year."

"I left you and my training?"

Duncan sighed as he didn't want to bring it up. Joe said, "Remember when we told you about dark quickenings? Mac had one in '95. I had to shoot him to keep him from taking your head."

Richie jumped up, "You were going to take my head twice?!"

"No!" Duncan was emphatic. "It was a dark quickening, Richie, and I had thanks every single day that Joe stopped me from doing the absolute worst thing a friend and teacher can do." Which he ended up doing... Because that didn't calm Richie at all, he repeated, "It was a dark quickening."

Immediately, Friday was back, scaring Duncan when she demanded, "What is this dark quickening?"

"You become what head you take. Koltek was full of evil and I had trouble integrating him. The very definition of a dark quickening is turning into something you would never be."

"Were you still under this dark quickening when you finally did take the head of my Master?"

"No," Duncan admitted. Friday needed answers about the safety of her Master with those people and their words couldn't be trusted. She rubbed her hands together and then placed them on Duncan's head. "Think about how it happened, Mr. MacLeod. How did you take the head of my Master?"

The visions she received were fast and furious. Duncan started crying through the process of reliving the moment when he slashed out at the body he was certain was the demon. Then saw his student fall to his knees in front of him. The others, Kronos, Horton, the fake Richie, all disappeared. All that was left was the headless body of his student, wobbling on his knees. Then, he fell backward. Both Duncan and Friday cried out in pain. Friday feel on her back as Duncan wailed, "It was the worse thing I ever did in my life, Richie. You were my student. I was to protect you always... I couldn't. I failed."

He doubled over in pain, his body heaving with sobs. Amanda rushed over and cried along as she cradled him in her arms. Joe stood and gently put his hand on Richie's back. "We all mourned you, Richie. We all love you."

Richie could see the tears sliding down the man's cheeks, through his own. He could see and feel the pain on that boat. Duncan clutched at Amanda and hoarsely whispered, "I failed you."

Friday picked herself up and stood between Duncan and Richie to protect him. Then realized she didn't need to. The extent of Duncan MacLeod's misery had blanketed her heart. She told Richie, "You are safe with them, Master." It was up to Richie to make the decision, so she waved her hand and became the chess board on the table in front of Duncan and Amanda on the couch so he could make it in peace.

"Mac," Richie started, making Duncan's head snap up to attention. "I don't know if I can trust you to teach me." Duncan closed his eyes and accepted it. "But, I do want to be your friend."

Duncan smiled and tentatively stood, waiting for any offering Richie would give him. Richie stuck out his hand to shake a truce. When Duncan took it, Richie pulled him into a hug. "I'm sure we were friends once. I can feel that."

Amanda stood behind Duncan and touched his back, so happy for the offering. Soon, both she and Joe were a part of the group hug. Joe brushed his hand on top of Richie's head and said, "Welcome home, kid."

Duncan grasped Richie's head and told him, "I will not fail you again, Richie. I swear it."

Amanda kissed Richie on the cheek. "None of us will."

"Maybe my second wish should be a teacher," Richie suggested.

Friday appeared sitting on the table and motioned to Duncan, "I think you have one already. As long as you still have two wishes, I am going to looking out for you, Master. They will not be able to hurt you."

Richie regarded Duncan and finally asked, "Was I a good immortal?"

"Yes," Duncan said without hesitation.

"Was I a good fighter?"

"Yes."

"Then," Richie smiled, "it shouldn't take too long to get back into the swing of things."

"We can start in the morning," Duncan hopefully suggested.

"Here in Paris?" Richie paused, then said, "I must be a truly American guy. The food here is too rich."

Duncan smiled, remembered that's what Richie told him before. "Then, we can catch a plane back to Seacouver in the morning."

  
  


**CONTINUED** in Part Two - An Immortal With Amnesia and His Jinniyah

   [1]: mailto:EnyaJo@aol.com



	2. An Immortal With Amnesia and His Jinniya...

**THE FRIDAY SERIES 2**

**AN IMMORTAL WITH ANMESIA AND HIS JINNIYAH**

by JoLayne  
[EnyaJo@aol.com][1]

* * *

**RATING: **PG

**CHARACTERS**: RR, DM, A, JD, M, OFC Friday

**SUMMARY**: Duncan and Richie agreed to retraining, but of course, Richie's leery of the man who took his head.

* * *

**SEPTEMBER 23, 1998  
SEACOUVER  
METHOS' APARTMENT**

Richie couldn't sleep. Methos was in a deep slumber on the other side of his studio apartment and the couch wasn't in the least bit restful. Methos obviously preferred looks over comfort as the couch seemed like it was straight from the French revolution. It was a nice couch. It could even be considered a pretty couch. But it had a bothersome rod that laid perfectly across Richie's shoulder blades all night. 

Not being able to take it any longer, Richie sat up and rubbed his eyes, then squinted up to the window and saw the sky was still black as night and wondered if he should use his second wish for a place of his own. At least a nice bed. Duncan had paid for his flight back to the states and gave him some money to get by on--it was the least he could do for taking his head.

Since Richie Ryan was supposed to be dead, Richie had thought of changing his name. Nothing he came up with seemed to fit except for John Doe. He remembered smells and pop culture. Newspaper accounts from years ago. Spoke English well. Knew how to take care of himself. The Rules of Hygiene for instance. But anything single thought that was personal, was all gone. Living the last seven months as an empty shell was starting to get to him. 

Methos turned over on his large comfortable bed. A down feathered pillow beneath his head. Richie remembered the bickering they went through to have Methos agree to let him stay there until he got back on his feet. You'd think Richie had the case of the plague the way Methos bitched and moaned about a guest in his humble abode. But, he finally relented. He kind of had to, Friday threatened to turn him back into an ass, or maybe that toad she visualized him as, if he didn't. 

The others had been filling him in the past couple of days on what his life was like before Mac got his quickening, but that kid they described seemed like a total stranger to Richie. A total stranger. And what a gullible wimp! Richie couldn't believe half of their stories. He didn't even feel an affinity for motorcycles, even though they told him he lived and breathed them. Richie had even raced, and won a few.

Richie couldn't stand another second on that couch, or being inside doing nothing. He was alive! He wanted to experience life, get out there and make his own mark. When Richie stretched and walked to the window to look out on the city they say he was born and raised in, he spotted a 1971 Cherry Red Mustang Fastback parked down the street. Now that seemed more his speed. Or Mac's Tbird. Maybe that should be his second wish. A nice set of classic wheels.

He had to think of two more wishes, or else Friday would start to get testy with him for having the same Master for so long. With how she'd been treating Methos, it was best to stay on the right side of her. Richie decided that he wasn't going to be able to get back to sleep, so he took a shower and got into some of his first and only wish he'd received thus far... clothes. When he packed them in that suitcase at the cemetery, he took what looked to be expensive, just because they were expensive. But, buttoning the dark blue silk shirt, it felt like a second skin. He gazed lovingly at the leather jacket he chose... dark brown, broken in. It was as if he had worn it for years, from the very first time he put it on.

After starting the coffeepot, he wondered if he should wake up Methos. Duncan had told him that he should stick to immortals he could trust until he was confident with his sword and could protect himself. The oldest immortal in the planet was lightly snoring across the room from him. Wearing boxers and a T-shirt. Hugging his pillow. Richie wondered what that smile on his face was all about. He really should pick that man's brain to get the life experience he had acquired, but every time he tried, Methos would cut him off with a glib remark. The flight from Paris was an eternity.

It was 6 am and Richie was stir crazy. He wanted to get out and enjoy another day. Then Mac's warning to stick close to an immortal fluttered through his head. He should probably wait until that mass of 5000 years decided to start another day before he could take his walk. The world of immortality was new to him and was still a little scary. But he wanted out. He looked back at Methos, wondering if he dared wake him. 

_Nope_, Richie thought as he looked at the man's peaceful face that he knew could turn testy in a second and a half. _Not a good way to start the day. But I can't stay cooped up in here_!

Richie figured an 'immortal' wouldn't be a companion for that walk, but an old jinniyah might be willing. It wasn't too early to wake her up, was it? He tentatively asked the thin air, "Friday?"

Methos yelled out in pain and couldn't move. All 220 pounds of Richie's genie, Friday, was planted right on his shoulder blade, pushing him further into the bed. "Get off me!"

"Say the magic word," she sweetly replied as she straightened the ostrich feather that held up the right side of her long frizzy hair.

"NOW!"

Friday glared at him, then looked toward her Master, "A toad?"

"No," Richie said. "Could you please get off him and come with me?"

Friday appeared at the door wearing winter weather gear. "Absolutely. Where are we going?"

"One can only hope that it will be as far away as possible," Methos threw his pillow at them.

Richie regarded the pillow, handling it like it was the Holy Grail. "Can you keep this in that safe place for me so I'll at least have a comfortable pillow tonight?"

Friday made it disappear with a smile and wave of her hand. "You just need to ask for it." She warned him, "Do not wish for it, just ask."

"Get out!" Methos turned over.

Friday loudly asked Richie, "How can you put up with tricksters?"

Richie turned somber, "He offered me a place to stay. I don't have many people in my life."

An surge of sympathy for the young man overwhelmed Friday so much she grabbed him into a bear hug to boost his self esteem, "You have anything you desire, Master. Just keep your eye on him." A porcelain statue sitting in the corner caught Friday's eye, "What in all that is magical is that monstrosity?"

"You're going to insist I wake up, aren't you," Methos spouted as he sat up. "Don't disparage my things."

Friday went what looked like a dalmatian, the ears about to her waist, and patted it on the head. "Where did you pick this up?"

"In my travels. Is the coffee ready?"

"It should be," Richie said.

"Nice and strong?" Methos poured himself a cup before the pot was full. After taking a sip and letting the hot liquid flow down, he squinted up at Friday, who was eye level with the dog statue. She rubbed her finger against the chip on the dog's jowls, fixing it. "Hey, thanks."

Friday waited for the hounds of hell to accompany the touchy immortal's gratitude. When it didn't come, she told him, "If you are going to display such an eyesore, it might as well be perfect." Friday stood up and couldn't take her eyes off it. "This looks so familiar for some reason."

It was a lark the thing was sitting there in the first place. When Methos cleaned out a storage garage, he was thinking of dropping it and just leaving the pieces for someone to clean up. "I'm sure there are thousands of people in the US that have one exactly like it."

Friday humphed, "Was there a Plague of Bad Taste I had not heard about?"

"Thousands?" Richie asked, then stared at the dog who's head was slightly tilted, as if listening for his master's command. "That's a ... wait a minute." Richie paced around the dog, looking at it from all angles. "Hey! I remember something! A long time ago there was a game show called Wheel of Fortune and that stupid dog was one of the shopping spree items."

"Bingo," Methos announced. "We have a winner."

"You were on a game show?"

"Yes," Methos spouted. "I have a lot of wisdom, I may as well win something."

"Wheel of Fortune?" Friday laughed.

"I have a great command of the English language."

All of a sudden, a floppy hat appeared in Friday's hands and she plopped it on the dog's head. "I am beginning to like this thing."

"How much did you win, Methos?" Richie asked. "Or was that the boobie prize?"

"I also purchased a lovely trip to Australia, thank you very much."

Friday offered, "I can turn it into a real dog if you want."

"No, thank you. You'd probably turn it into a pit bull."

"You are the trickster, not me."

Methos' pleasant demeanor shifted, suddenly weary of both of their company, "I am sick and tired of hearing you call me names and waltzing into my home without being invited," he cut Richie off when he was going to say he called for her and forcefully pointed to himself. "By me! I think you broke my shoulder blade this morning, but did I complain? No. I'm a grown up. Just get out, both of you. I have things to do today."

Richie asked, "I can stay here again tonight, can't I?"

"Yes," Methos calmed. That female rubbed him wrong, got his hair up, riled his anger and he didn't like it one little bit. "Just stay away from me today. Or rather, you can come back here," he pointed to Richie. "Not her."

"Where my Master goes," Friday proudly proclaimed. "I am sure to follow."

"Then wait outside. You aren't invited into my home anymore."

Friday suddenly disappeared. Richie yelled, "Friday!" Nothing happened. "What did you do?"

Methos waited for something to happen. Checked himself over to see if he was a different species. That the apartment was on fire, anything. The only thing that happened is that he'd have to sweep up the ostrich feathers that fluttered to the floor when Friday disappeared. Methos couldn't help but belly laugh, "I think I did something I should have done a couple of days ago. I'm not that up on Jinn lore. If I tell one they're not invited, do they have to stay out?"

Richie shrugged, "She hasn't mentioned that before." 

"I'm sure she wouldn't mention such a thing."

Richie opened the door to the hallway to see Friday leaning against the wall filing her fingernails. She sweetly asked, "Are you ready to go, Master?"

"You can't come in here anymore?"

"No," Friday tried not to look at the man who got one over on her. "So be careful around him."

Methos continued to laugh, loudly. "You're not all that powerful, are you?"He waltzed over to the dog and plucked the hat off him.

"Methos, invite her back in."

"No. You're fine here." He shoved the hat at Friday said, "You are not welcome." He pushed Richie into the hall and shut the door. When he was alone, he rubbed his hands in victory.

* * *

Friday and Richie were walking down the streets of Seacouver as the sun was up and people emerged from their abodes to get to their jobs. Richie commented, "Nothing and nobody looks familiar. I still only remember what I lived through since I got out of that grave."

A woman waiting for the bus overheard him and hesitantly looked over her shoulder at the two of them. A young well dressed man in a leather jacket and a weird looking woman in a full length mink coat, thick round glasses and a feather sticking out of her hair. Bus, schmus! The woman decided to walk to work and high tailed it down the street.

Richie hadn't noticed how he freaked the woman out and continued to Friday, "How can I remember a show from my youth and not this city I'd lived in all my life?"

Friday said, "Well, the program Wheel of Fortune is still on. We watched it while in Paris. Remember that cold night we decided to splurge and stay at the Ritz?"

"How could I forget?" Richie smiled and put his arm around his genie. "I don't think I ever watched TV and eat escargot while sitting in a jacuzzi watching Wheel of Fortune before. Heck, I didn't even know I liked escargot. Or even knew what it was."

"I am happy you have a good memory with me, Master."

"All my memories of you are good," Richie said, chucking his closed fist lightly against her chin. The light changed and they crossed the street, not really caring where they were going. 

Friday was really enjoying herself with Richie and most of his friends. Heck, she was even enjoying tormenting that man. But Richie looked so down in the dumps, so unsure of himself. She tried to help, "They have a different host now and give out money instead of having those poor contestants spend their winnings on crap."

"So how can I remember that stupid show before they changed it and I don't remember my mother?"

"It is a puzzle. You did come out of your grave with a full vocabulary and were literate." They walked past a bookstore and Friday paused in front of it. Diet books and cookbooks filled the window space. Friday shook her head as her focused went from the Zone to Luscious Desserts that were only inches from each other on the display case, "What are they trying to tell their customers?" 

There was a little rack of top sellers to the right and she looked them over. "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone." Friday's interest was peaked. "Hm. I will have to check that one out. But, where are the classics?" She saw Richie was staring off across the street at an antique store. "Do you remember Shakespeare?"

"Never met him," Richie muttered. His gaze didn't leave that shop's window. But, he couldn't figure out why it held his interest. Try as he might, he just didn't get the vibe that he should have had. That shop was Duncan and Tessa's, and was the reason Richie met them in the first place when he broke in.

"Funny," she smiled, bopped him on the arm. "Have you read books, do you remember books?"

"I don't know. Name some."

Off the top of her head, she chose one that most people had probably at least picked up once in their lives, "The Bible?"

"Yeah. Adam, Eve, Noah, Moses..."

"Okay, you have read the Bible, or at least the Old Testament. I think it is just the personal angle of things that you are missing. Maybe we will come across something that you will remember. An old house you lived in... an apartment... your favorite store? We are just in the wrong part of town?"

Richie took his eyes off the antique shop and looked at his jinniyah, with the wind wrecking havoc on her frizzy hair and feather. He reached over to straighten it for her, then brushed her hair back off her shoulders. "Must be," he said, then started walking again, lost. "But I didn't remember the dojo. Sounds like I spent a lot of time there." 

"I wonder if you were ever at the dojo before you turned immortal. You lived on the other side of town and didn't get around much? I've heard that people live in big cities and only stick around their part of it. Could that be it?"

Richie walked on, then felt the rumble in his stomach and the hair on the back of his head rose up that he had learned could only mean one thing. "Someone's around."

"An immortal?" Friday looked around for Duncan MacLeod or Amanda. Or even Methos. 

_Please let it be Methos to say something flippant and not one who would try to take my Master's head_. Friday took Richie's arm, "May I take us out of here, Master?"

"No. I gotta get used to this."

"I am proud of you, Master. You didn't double over or anything." She could see his eyes were wide and darted around the perimeter for another like him.

Down the street was a man in a long coat, legs apart, hand in his coat. Richie and the man locked eyes. Friday asked, "Is he familiar to you?"

"No."

"Let us go."

"No," Richie lightly said, and started to walk toward him. Friday didn't like it and waved her arms.

All of a sudden, Richie was walking along the sand on a Jamaican beach. "Friday!"

Friday appeared right in front of him, pointing her finger at him like he was a child, "You do not even have a sword, Richie. I really do not think it is smart to walk up to an immortal you do not know. I, for one, have listened to Mr. MacLeod. He said not to do that."

"I don't know who I am, but I'm positive I'm not a wimp."

"When you are trained and confident with a sword, you can walk up to anyone you desire. Until then, you have two wishes. And me. I am not going to allow that. Let us go right to the dojo and you can start your training with Mr. MacLeod."

Richie was ticked at being treated like a child, but looked around the deserted beach and at the rising sun. It was beautiful. Peaceful. He took off his coat. "What are you doing?" Friday asked, then magically put his coat back on him. "We are going back to the cold weather."

"No." He defiantly took his coat off again. 

When he pulled off his shirt, then his boots, pants, Friday asked, "Master, what are you doing?"

He folded his clothes neatly and put them in a pile on a rock by the water's edge. "The water's nice here, isn't it?"

"It is perfect."

"I'm going for a swim. Care to join me?"

She waved her hands with a flourish putting Richie in swimming trunks. "You just had to tell me what you were thinking." She waved her hand and she was suddenly outfitted in a swimming suit, and was a hundred pounds lighter. "Let us go," she grabbed his hand and ran into the waves.

* * *

**DOJO**

Duncan was worried and paced a circle into the wood gym flooring. It was afternoon and no one had heard from Richie since they left Methos' just after 6. Methos sat on the stairs going to the locker room with his head in his hands while Duncan paced in front of him, "The one person in this world that Richie trusts, and you banish her from your apartment? What were you thinking?!"

Duncan had been on him for a half hour and the conversation was beyond boredom. "I need peace and quiet," Methos yelled. "You don't know how annoying that woman is."

Amanda sat on a weight-lifting machine with her legs crossed, bored with the conversation, "I like her. But then again, I haven't ticked her off."

"I can't believe I did, either." Methos got up to leave. But then, had to say, "In fact, I saved her life. She doesn't remember that. No. Of course not."

For once, Duncan actually listened to what he said that day. "How could you possibly save a genie's life?"

"She was going to be executed. I paid for her freedom."

Duncan had heard some stories from that man, but that was beyond ridiculous. "How can anyone execute a genie?"

"Well..." Methos paused to remember. "I didn't know she was a jinniyah! She was letting them, I suppose. They were about to take her head. The axe was in the air."

Amanda smiled and between Methos and the door, "How sweet. How did you stop it?"

"I offered to pay for her freedom, and replace the box she stole."

That interested Amanda, it could be a relic to find, and must be worth a lot of money. "What was in the box?"

"I don't know. It was just a box. A worthless box that she was caught taking."

"So, you came to her rescue?"

"Taking her head for a stupid box seemed a little overboard to me, and her freedom wasn't cheap."

Amanda said, "Well, then. She owes you something."

"Yes, she does."

Duncan interjected, "But she could have gotten herself out."

Amanda continued, "Or, was that how you got Cleo?"

"Be quiet, both of you."

Duncan looked at his friend being nonchalant and his lover wanting to pick his brain for more details on the box. He couldn't just wait around. He marched to the office to call Joe again. Turns out, Joe hadn't seen hide nor hair of the kid and his companion. "If he's with her," he said, "they're fine. She wouldn't let anything happen to him."

"We were supposed to start training today. I cleared out the dojo for that very purpose."

"Maybe he's not ready. You've dealt with leery new ones before. Give him time."

"Joe, there's not time if he comes across one of us."

"You're really shook up," Joe said. "You want me to come over?"

"No. You can't be seen with us."

"My thoughts exactly," Joe said. "Just keep me posted. Hey! I'm performing at the Quest tonight. You want to come over?"

"What time?"

"We start at 9."

"We'll be there. Good luck." Duncan hung up and went back out to the gym. "Joe hasn't seen him either." They both looked at Methos like he hadn't given them the whole scoop of what happened that morning. 

Methos said, "Well, I have other things to do. See you later."

"Joe's playing at the Quest at 9."

Methos was half out the door, but held up his hand in response, "I'll be there." Then he fell flat on his back. Richie and Friday in their swim suits were standing over him, dripping Caribbean water on his face. 

"Good shot!" Friday did a victory dance. "I was hoping to target where you were. I am good!" She high-fived Richie.

Methos knocked the back of her knee and Friday went down like a sack of potatoes. As he stood up, he announced, "I am better, and I don't need magic."

Richie held out his hand to help him up, but Methos slapped it away. Duncan charged to his student. "Rule number one, young man, you tell me where you are at all times."

"So you know where my head is?"

"Yes!"

"It's right here, teach," Richie drew his finger across his neck. Duncan stepped back from visualizing once again when his sword went through that exact area. The rumbling of Richie's quickening in his spirit violent. Again, it was as if Richie was yelling at him from the inside. He had to grip the epee rack to steady himself.

Friday picked herself off the floor and turned herself back into her favored form, then waved at Richie. He was suddenly completely dressed and dry. "I am sorry, Mr. MacLeod. My fault. We saw an immortal on our way over here, so I got Richie to safety. And the water was so clear. The sun was so warm. We had the beach to ourselves. We lost track of time."

Richie agreed, "It was her fault, Mac. I wanted to talk to the guy."

"What immortal?"

"I don't know you," Richie shrugged. "How could I know anyone else?"

Duncan straightened, "Where was he? Was he dangerous?"

"They are all dangerous, are they not?" Friday said, glaring at Methos.

"Your feather is off kilter," he commented as he brushed off the water from his face and clothes.

Friday adjusted it in her hair, "Master has not eaten. Can you feed him, please?"

"Of course," Amanda said, wondering when the best time to ask for a freebie for herself would be. "We have pasta waiting upstairs."

"Good. I am going to go shopping," Friday happily announced. She straightened Richie's collar and said, "You have a nice training."

"You aren't leaving," Richie plead.

"Yes. You are among friends. I have things to do."

Amanda inquired, "I couldn't by chance... go shopping with you? Could I?"

Friday looked her over, surprised at the question. 

"Please?"

Friday put her hand to her chin and really gave Amanda the once over. Amanda was seldom uncomfortable, but the examination made her wonder what was going on. "What?"

"I am trying to figure out where you like to shop."

"I have a choice?"

"The world is at my disposal," Friday said, making Amanda giggle. "I was just going to go to a drugstore for a new nail file."

"Oh, we can do better than that." Amanda put her arm around Friday in a very friendly manner. "I'll show you were the great places are."

Friday pushed her glasses up her nose and asked, "Is your passport up to speed?"

"What do I need a passport for?"

"I serve my Master and myself. Who are you? Why would I take you anywhere?" 

Amanda took her arm back, and felt like crawling into the wall with the boldness of the jinniyah's voice and embarrassed for making an assumption that the jinniyah would help her out at all. 

Friday let the uncomfortable tension fill the air, and then laughed, "Stick up for yourself, Amanda! I would enjoy a shopping spree with you. I am sure you know what you are doing and can teach me a few things. Have you got your credit cards?"

"Of course."

"Let us go!"

Methos observed, "And you don't think that wasn't a trick, keeping Amanda on edge like that?"

"Oh, be quiet," Friday seethed at the man so cavalierly leaning against the banister with his arms crossed, then waved her hand in his direction. Methos' mouth had disappeared from his face. He put his hands on his face, squealed, then glared at Friday. That was it! He'd had enough of that bag and grabbed her neck and squeezed. She disappeared, making Methos fall on the floor and roll, groping at where his mouth used to be. 

Richie yelled, "Jeez, I'm the youngest one here and I'm the grown up."

Duncan popped him on the arm. "Hey, don't count me in with them." All was quiet from Richie and his essence, that made Duncan again feel comfortable. "She does bring out the worst in you, Methos."

Amanda could only laugh, making Methos slap her on the leg. "Woo soone et her rah!"

Duncan smiled, "I kind of like that version of Methos."

Methos grumbled more.

Richie yelled, "Friday!"

The jinniyah who was just having fun knelt right behind Methos and sweetly replied, "Yes?" Methos turned and grabbed her head. She flipped over him, then disappeared, a load of ostrich feathers covered Methos' lap.

Friday reappeared at the top of the stairs to the locker rooms. She'd seen that face on him before. Well, not that particular face. Before, he had a mouth. And he used it. Oh... did he use it. "Okay," she held up her hands in surrender. "I may have gone too far. I am sorry, Methos."

He grumbled at her, pissed.

"If I give you your mouth back, will you not yell at me?"

He grumbled.

"I apologized," she hopefully smiled.

He grumbled, picked himself up, walked toward her.

"I am sorry."

He got to the bottom step. Pointed at his face. Waited. 

"Come on!" They all yelled. "Leave him alone!" Amanda added, "I want to go shopping!"

"But I prefer him this way."

"Give him his mouth back!"

Friday waved her hand and became invisible, not wanting any part of his wrath, but wanted to know what the others would say about her. Methos opened and closed his mouth. Felt his lips and tongue. Worked out his jaw. Glared at them all, then he walked out of the dojo with his dignity intact.

The three immortals were silent, then Duncan told Richie, "She's kind of a dangerous type, isn't she?"

"No." Richie caught a glance of her outline on the steps from where she disappeared from. "Are you?"

Friday made herself visible to Duncan and Amanda. You could have heard a pin drop, all frivolity was gone. "I am sorry."

"You shouldn't have done that, Friday," Richie said. "He is a person."

Friday started crying and fire escaped from her wrists as no one was on her side or saw the humor in it. "I was just having fun," she whined, tears dripping down her face. "I did not think. I am sorry."

When they didn't offer any support, Friday disappeared. 

* * *

Methos walked out to his SUV and turned the key in the ignition. He sat back wondering just what he did to that woman to make her despise him so thoroughly. He couldn't think of a single reason. He saved her life! Was her life so horrible that she would have liked to end it? Is that why she let herself be tied and put on her knees with an axeman hovering over her? It was all the space of a few minutes from the time she was accused to when she would have lost her head in Egypt, 68 BCE. She could have disappeared at any moment, but she didn't. Why not? Of all the people in the world that had a real reason to hate him and want to see him dead, Friday, or Laminae as she called herself then, shouldn't be one of them. 

Methos felt a presence in the car with him, but there wasn't a human form. He was too smart for that, remembering when she was a table at Duncan's barge. Friday had to be in that car somewhere. He looked in the back seat in case she made herself a couple of inches tall. He walked around the outside, and she wasn't hiding in the back. He sat in the driver's seat again and couldn't shake the feeling he was being watched. He felt the dash. The seat. The stick shift. They were all cool to the touch. When he felt the rear view mirror, it was warm. "Get out of my vehicle," he promptly stated.

Friday appeared in the passenger seat, crying. "Please, me do not banish me anymore." When he didn't even move a muscle, she continued, "I want to really apologize. I am sorry for all the things I have done to you."

"Apology accepted. Get out."

"Do not banish me."

Methos felt a little smile form on the side of his mouth. He straightened it, she was not going to see that he was going to put a huge one over on her. He cleared his throat and announced, "You are not welcome in my vehicle." Her cries got bigger as Methos continued in a very calm and collected voice. "You are not welcome in my home." The tears flooded down her face. "You are not welcome in any of my properties." He was having so much fun, that smile grew to a full fledge shit eating grin. "In fact, you are not welcome in my presence."

"You can not banish me from anything you do not own."

"You'd be surprised what I own, lady." He started the vehicle as soon as she disappeared. He looked up at the floor of the dojo and suddenly realized he had to take something back. He opened the window and yelled, "Friday!"

An old man was leaning against the building and jumped from the exclamation. Methos at first felt embarrassed, especially since it didn't work to call her. But then, he really scrutinized that old man. Methos motioned with his finger for him to come closer. The old man looked both ways down the sidewalk. Yep, the young looking one was talking to him. He shuffled closer to the vehicle's window. 

"I take one back," Methos said.

"Huh!?" The old man put his hand to his ear to hear better.

"Come off it," Methos grumbled. "I know it's you and I'm only going to say this once, so listen up. I have to take one of the banishes back."

Friday swiftly turned from the old man into her favored form and pushed her glasses up on her nose. She hopefully looked at him as Methos shook his head, "And you call me a trickster..."

"What is it?"

"I'm only taking one back, only one. I have half interest in that dojo. If it wasn't for the fact that Richie has to train and you have to watch over him... you're allowed there, but nowhere else that I own. Ever. Just stay away from me."

"I will."

"And stop crying. It's not jinniyah."

"How do you know? Jinn have big hearts."

"Where's yours?"

Friday gasped and couldn't believe he would think so badly of her. She was just startled to see he was alive at the barge when she turned him into a ass. She was just having fun the rest of the time. Methos drove off.

"I am sorry," she muttered, and then disappeared.

* * *

Duncan and Richie were going over sword moves and stances while Amanda paced, wondering if Friday was going to return so they could go shopping. She mused that with her powers and Amanda's knowledge of all the jewels ripe for the picking, they could make a wonderful friendship. If only she was her genie. Or, got a freebie like Richie and obviously Methos, got. Think of what they could accomplish. 

"Come on, Rich," Duncan moaned. "You aren't even trying. You know this move in your sleep."

"That was before you took my head," Richie seethed, out of wind.

"Rule number two, you are never to bring that up again," Duncan warned. "We both have a second chance at this, we're starting a new beginning."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"You know," Duncan stepped back and put his hands on his hips. "I think that genie's magnetic personality has rubbed off on you."

"Where is she?" Amanda asked.

"Friday!"

Friday appeared meek by the door. "May I come in?"

"Of course, I called for you," Richie said.

"I mean, really come in. You are not mad at me, are you?"

"If you don't turn anyone into anything or take away parts of our anatomy, you're fine," Duncan said. "Where's Methos?"

"I do not know. He drove off angry."

"Bah," Amanda waved away the thought. "He's fine. Let's go."

"I can not go anywhere," Friday solemnly stated. "My Master called me."

"Richie, tell her to go shopping with me."

"No. I feel like a lobster," Richie mopped the sweat off his head and neck. "Let's go to Maine for dinner."

Friday didn't know how many ways and in how many languages she had to tell her Master that he couldn't demand anything. "Is that your second wish?"

"No."

"Then no."

"Why not?"

"I will not just give you what you demand. I give you what I want to give you or what you wish for."

He paused, and then sweetly asked, "Please take me to Maine for a lobster dinner?"

"No."

Richie threw the sword and it clattered across the room.

"Hey!" Duncan jumped back to life. "Rule number three, you treat your sword like it's your arm, because it is."

"Just how many rules are there?!"

The two immortals stood nose to nose again as Duncan yelled, "A lot!"

"Well, I believe things are humming along just fine here," Friday said. "Amanda? Shall we go shopping?"

"Yes!"

"No!" Richie said, "I want you here."

Friday folded her arms under her breasts and glared at Richie because if he kept demanding she stay put, she had to. They waited. Duncan asked, "Why do you want her here? We were just getting somewhere in your training."

"I don't want to be alone."

"You're not alone. I'm your teacher and there is no one on this earth you can trust more than me."

Richie still had issues with that, but Friday interrupted, "May Amanda and I go shopping, Master?"

Richie groaned, "Yeah." Before they knew it, Amanda and Friday disappeared.

"Can we get back to work? If we work a couple of more hours, I'll treat you to a lobster dinner, right here in Seacouver. Then we'll go enjoy Joe and his band. We'll have a few drinks, have some fun, listen to some good music. We can get to know each other again. Okay?"

Richie went to pick up the sword he threw. He noticed the tip had broken off. "I'm sorry. I don't know what got into me."

Friday appeared and rubbed her hand against the tip of the rapier, and it reformed to be good as new. "You are safe with Mr. MacLeod, Master. Have fun. Amanda and I will see you later."

She disappeared.

Duncan put his hand behind Richie's head. "Rich, you were my best student I ever had. I was so proud of you. You ticked me off at times, but it was only when you didn't listen to me. I am so sorry about what I did to you. It will never happen again. You can trust me."

Richie felt the power of his words and the force of something that must have been their friendship at one time. He simply nodded, as he didn't trust his voice from not breaking.

Duncan felt the rumble of Richie's quickening in his gut slowly quiet. He rubbed Richie's head and said, "I guess I should feel fortunate you haven't sicced Friday on me."

"I wouldn't do that," Richie smiled. "I do feel a friendship from you, Mac. Maybe one day, we'll have it."

* * *

**LONDON**

Amanda opened the door to Harrod's to let Friday go first. After all, because of her magic they'd been able to go from Seacouver to Rio to Geneva, then to London all in one afternoon, it was the least she could do. And with the fact that her mood could shift at a moment's notice, Amanda was as pleasant as possible.

"Thank you, Amanda," Friday sweetly said with a smile as she walked into the store. As soon as she reached the doorframe though, she bounced back. 

Amanda laughed, "That was cute."

Friday tried it again. It was like there was an invisible barrier blocking her way. "You first," she told Amanda.

Amanda walked through, and held the door open for her. "Come on. I need new hose."

Friday tried to stick her hand through the doorframe, but couldn't. She walked back on the sidewalk and looked up at the building trying to figure out why she couldn't pass the doorway. Amanda let two other women into the store and walked back out to Friday. When it seemed to Amanda Friday was going to start bawling again, she rubbed her shoulder, "What's the matter?"

"I have never that problem before," Friday mused, looking at the building that took over the whole block. "I am not welcome. I have been banished."

"By who?"

"It must be Methos. I could get in there last week."

"What does Methos have to do with anything?"

"He must own this place."

"No, he doesn't," Amanda laughed. "That Fayed guy does."

"He owes something here. I can not go in that building. He is the only who has banished me that is still alive. I know it is him."

Amanda dropped her arms and thought, "Well, okay. Jeez, you learn something new everyday. I didn't know Methos was part owner of Harrod's. Unless there's offices up there or something. Man! His taxes must be something."

Friday adjusted the skin on her wrists. Even though Amanda hadn't spent a lot of time around her, or any genie for that matter, she knew that if Friday did that, she was upset or something bad was going to happen. "We'll just go somewhere else."

"You may go in," Friday offered. "I will wait here for you."

"What's the fun in that? Let's go."

They walked down the sidewalk as Amanda thought of the next shopping district to visit and when would be the best time to ask for a freebie. Friday keep her eyes on the sidewalk, sullen, "Is he ever going to forgive me?"

"Who? Methos?" Friday nodded. Amanda continued, "I wouldn't worry about it. He'll come around. He's used to people not liking him."

"But, I do like him. I was just playing with him."

Amanda laughed, "Well, you went too far. I'd hate to see what you do to people you can't stand if you like Methos and did all that stuff to him."

"I was surprised to see him. He brings out the worst in me. We met under... extreme circumstances."

Amanda really wanted to know how that all unfolded, from her point of view, but didn't want to make her more upset. 

Friday mumbled, "In fact, I thought I would never have the opportunity to tell him that I..."

"What?"

Friday didn't verbalize that she was glad he saved her life. It was the one and only time in her almost 3000 years floating around the planet that she needed saving. And he's the one who did it. And she thought he was a normal human. Would be long dead by now. And he was friends with her Master. And he was mad at her. And banished her. Oh, she made a mess of things. 

Amanda wiped off a stray tear that rolled down her face, "Were you in love with him?"

No answer. Amanda choked back a smile, wanting to belly laugh. It was classic! 

Friday said, "Maybe I should get him a gift. You know, as a peace offering. What would he like?"

"Methos? I have no idea."

"What does he do?"

"I have no idea since he left the watchers."

"Watchers? Those people like Joe who watch immortals?"

"Yeah."

"Methos was a watcher?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

Amanda shrugged and looked in the window of Harrod's, really wishing she could spend an hour or two there. Friday said, "I should get him something."

Amanda didn't like the turn in the mood of their shopping excursion. "I'll help you pick something out. Let's go to... well, how about Rodeo Drive in L.A.?"

"Ooo!" Friday suddenly smiled. "I found the most fabulous scarves there back in the 50's. Do you think they might still have some?"

"Absolutely!" 

Friday waved her arms and they were off.

* * *

**LOFT**

Richie was sitting on the couch in the loft fingering the chess pieces when Amanda and Friday appeared with their bundles. "I can't wait to show Duncan this stuff," Amanda smiled.

"He's in the shower."

Friday asked, "Did your training go well?"

"Yeah," Richie smiled.

"How long will it take for you to be trained?"

"I don't know," he said, wondering if she asked because she was tiring of him already. "I'm feeling better now."

"More than one day, Richie." Amanda said.

"I am hungry," Friday said, in a good mood. "Shall we go eat?"

"Yeah, Mac should be done soon," Richie smiled and rubbed his stomach. "He promised lobster."

"Sounds good," Friday waved her hand.

Duncan appeared next to the bed dressed in a nice suit and was completely dry. Even his hair, which he was still going through the motions of washing. "What the..."

"Let us go eat." Friday waved her hand and they all looked very nice in dress clothes.

Duncan realized he was wearing a suit that didn't belong to him, but fit like a glove. Amanda was wearing a red strapless ball gown with silk gloves to her elbows, a glittering diamond bracelet. "We're going to be very overdressed for the Quest."

"What kind of clientele do they have?"

"Normal people."

When Friday rose her hands, Amanda yelled, "Wait!" and unclasped the bracelet and held onto it for dear life. Friday waved her hand and they were all dressed in jeans and t-shirts. The bracelet had disappeared. So close... 

Richie said, "Try again. I'm not the jeans type."

Duncan laughed, "Since when?"

Suddenly, they all looked like they stepped out of Banana Republic with a wave of Friday's hand. "We could be here all night," Duncan said. "Or I can put on my own clothes."

"Fine," Friday said. "I was just trying to move things along."

* * *

After their lobster meal, Richie and Duncan were actually joking and having a good time as they walked ahead of the two ladies on their way to the Quest Nightclub bundled up in coats. They all wanted to take a cab, but Richie. Friday offered to whisk them, but Richie wanted to walk and feel the fresh air in his lungs, the breeze on his face. After a couple of blocks, it was getting old and cold! He was going to mention that Friday could give them a boost when Duncan told them the club was just around the corner. 

Amanda asked when Friday was going to give that present to Methos, when they turned the corner, and all three immortals felt a buzz and stopped in their tracks. Friday immediately ran up to Richie, "Master, is it safe?"

"Don't call me Master in public."

They all over the perimeter and zeroed in on Methos who emerged from the parking lot. "Is it just you," Richie asked.

"I hope so."

Friday slunk back, Methos smiled, having put her in her place. He held the door open for them. Duncan and Amanda bowed and thanked him and walked in. Richie next. Friday tried to, but Methos shut the door before she could enter. "I also own this place. See ya." He waltzed in.

Friday stared at the closed door, then looked in the darkened window. They were sitting at a table next to the stage. She was looking forward to hearing Joe play his music as he came highly recommended. "Jerk," she muttered.

She stepped back to loiter. There was no way she wasn't going to let Richie be out alone. Maybe there was a way to become the stage or something. She waved her hand, but she ended up a piece of plywood leaning against the building. After making herself her favored form again, she shouted, "Jerk!"

Onto the foot of someone. "Sorry," she turned around, but was grabbed by the neck and couldn't see who it was.

A gravelly baritone voice reverberated in her ear, "How could you remember what a jerk I am?"

Friday caught her breath as that voice could only belong to one man... or being. "Diabol!" Just saying his name sent shivers down her spine. Friday was going to make a fast exit, but it didn't work. His grip was tight on her arm. He spoke again, laughing, "I am pleased you remember me. You are going to come in so-o-o-o handy." Before she could look onto his face, Diabol punched her, knocking her out.

They both vanished in a cloud of smoke, making the people on the street wonder. But, there was a Magician's Convention in town. They just thought it was pretty cool.

* * *

Inside the Quest, Richie got his draft from the buxom blonde waitress and smiled at her. Then followed her back to the bar. Duncan looked around and asked, "Where's Friday?"

"Outside," Methos proudly announced.

"You own this bar?" Amanda asked.

"Yes." Methos sipped his beer. "You know. I want champagne instead." He got up and walked to the bar.

Amanda mused, "I wonder what went on between those two."

Duncan looked at Richie, "I wonder if we'll ever be good friends again."

"The training went well, Richie even said as much at dinner."

"Yeah, but it's not the same."

Amanda put her hand on his, "Mac, he knows you took his head," she whispered, "He knows you killed him. He's doing the best he can with that information."

Duncan dropped his head that his lover was bringing up such an awful period. Maybe he can't rise above that swing of his sword no matter how much he tried. Maybe Richie should have a different teacher, one he can totally trust. Amanda lifted his head and kept her hand on his chin, kissed his cheek. "Just give him time, Mac. He'll get to know you and he'll have no choice but to fall in love with you."

"Oh, wonderful," Duncan smirked.

"You know what I mean."

"Dom Perignon for everyone," Methos announced as he set the chilled magnum on the table with four glasses.

Amanda immediately took one of the glasses and held it up, "Ladies first."

"Of course, madam," Methos poured.

Amanda thanked him and asked, "Don't you think bygones should be bygones? How about letting Friday back in?"

"No," Methos stated, and poured Duncan a glass, then himself and toasted, "To us, who are not gifted with magic."

"But, she's fun," Amanda moaned. "She bought you something today."

"Bought?" Methos whispered, "She's a jinniyah, she doesn't have to buy anything."

"Okay, she got you something."

Methos laughed. "What? A bed of nails? A flower that spurts ink?"

"No. It was very nice. We both put a lot of thought into it."

"What?"

"Let her back in here and you'll find out."

"I'm not that interested," Methos poured himself another glass as Joe and his band set up.

* * *

Diabol appeared with the still comatose Friday in his arms outside the abandoned warehouse that he had staked out as his home base. Imagine, he just came to Seacouver to go to the Bartolomeo Bosco Appreciation Society Convention, and who does he see? The bane of his existence, Laminae. He thought she'd be dead by then, with how emotional she was. Some are just the survivor type. But, no longer.

But, he couldn't figure out why his magic made him appear outside the building. He had heat inside. With just a thought, the door to the building flipped open. Diabol was an Afrit, a more powerful Jinn than Friday, in fact, was just under a Marid in the hierarchy of things. He looked down at the still knocked out jinniyah in his arms and would graciously carry her over the threshold. As soon as her body hit the plane of the doorframe, he bounced back. He looked at her again to see if she was indeed awake and playing with him. How dare she! A flame of fire emitted from his eyes, scorching her blouse. She didn't react at all.

He tried to get inside again. As soon as Friday's head hit the plane of the doorframe, he bounced back with her in his arms like he was butting her head against a brick wall. Friday came to and rubbed her head. "Ow." Then felt her charred clothes. Then looked up in fear at the one holding her. 

Diabol dropped her but kept a hold of her arm. Even though she tried for all she was worth, she couldn't get free, or disappear. 

"Oh, my world," she clasped a hand to her chest as breath escaped her. She moaned, "Diabol? How did you get free? How are you still alive?"

"You ask a lot of questions. Answer me one." He motioned to the door, "Why can't we enter?"

Friday looked at the broken down old building and shrugged. "I can not get in there?" Then she started laughing. 

"What is wrong with you?"

"He must own that building, too."

"Who?"

"None of your business, Diabol," Friday spat out.

"Don't call me that!" Fire emitted from his fingertips and scorched her hair. "How dare you!"

Friday tried to get free. Fire from her wrists mixed with his and soon they were both on fire. Then, Diabol clicked his fingers and they were both pristine. Although the flames were still shooting from Friday, making no damage on the other jinn. He was a more powerful jinn than she, and her magic was worthless against him. The seriousness of her predicament became clear. She could not leave him. He could do anything he wanted with her. After what she did to him, at that moment, a quick death seemed like a very great idea.

* * *

**THE QUEST NIGHTCLUB**

When the band went on a short break, the bar fell to a decibel level that only consisted of people's voices and glasses tinkling. Richie rushed back to the table with great news. "Guys, I'm off," he announced.

Duncan and Amanda unhooked themselves from a clench, and Methos stirred out of his slumber. He looked at the two empty bottles of champagne in front of them and realized it must have been him that drank most of it. He never did well with champagne in his system. Even the loud band didn't stop him from taking a catnap. 

"I'll see ya tomorrow," Richie smiled, then winked at Methos, "I won't be needing your couch tonight."

Before he could leave, Duncan stood and grabbed his arm, "Hey, hey, hey. Where do you think you're going?"

"I got a date."

"Who?"

"Her," Richie pointed to the waitress standing by the bar twirling a ringlet through her fingers snapping bubblegum. "She just got off work and we hit it off. See ya."

Amanda tisked, "Oh Rich, you can do better than that. She's more his speed," she pointed at Methos.

"Hey!" Methos was suddenly wide awake. He was glad he wouldn't have to put out the welcome wagon to a kid, but to be carelessly insulted was more than he needed for the evening.

Duncan quietly warned Richie, "You can't go off with someone alone. Didn't I tell you that Seacouver is crawling with immortals and you should stick close to one of them?"

"I don't need a chaperone for what we're going to do."

"I think it's too soon."

"Friday's within calling reach. Come on! I'm a grown man, with needs." Richie smiled at the chick at the bar and mouthed that he'd be right there. "I'll show you Mac, Friday?"

They waited and nothing happened. "Friday!" Still nothing.

Methos giggled, "I guess you were out of the loop. She can't come in here," he relished telling them all that he got one over on a jinniyah.

"That's right," Richie shook his head at the 'children' around him. "Friday's just right outside. I'm fine, Mac. Thanks for the concern. I'm not staying on his couch one more night and Candy told me she's got a nice comfy queen bed." Then he looked at Methos, "You don't by chance own the Vivaldi Garden Apartments on Shea, do you?"

"Not that I'm aware of," Methos smiled. "Have fun, lad."

"Let's take it outside," Duncan said, moving Richie to the door. "I want to make sure she's going to protect you for the evening."

On the way to the door, Richie stopped, "Hey! She's there. I'm not a kid. I can run. I think I can fight, training went good today. Leave me alone."

At the table, Amanda sipped the last of her glass of champagne and sneered at Methos, "She should bring that pen back, you don't deserve it."

"A pen?" Methos forcefully asked. "She got me a pen? That's my big gift?"

Amanda spouted, "Yes! You don't deserve it."

Methos feigned a wounded heart, "Oh, I don't know how I'm going to be able to carry on because a weirdo didn't give me a pen." Then he laughed uproariously.

"Oh, shut up. You don't know what you're talking about. Let her back in here."

"No."

Duncan came back to the table, alone. Methos smiled, "Your charge didn't want your help undressing the lass or something?"

"Shut up."

"Fine," Methos stood. "I know when I've overstayed my welcome. I'm off."

* * *

Friday's mind swam... Diabol was freed, alive and in a pissy mood. Three strikes, Friday's out. Just to think, an hour ago, she and Amanda had a nice afternoon shopping, they all had a nice meal, Methos even allowed her access to the dojo for Richie's training, and she didn't know the bane of her existence was walking around, plotting. If only she could go back in time.

Since the crazy jinniyah was banished from the warehouse he'd staked out as headquarters for himself, Diabol had to improvise. He waved his hand and they were suddenly on top of the hotel holding the magic convention in the memory of Bartolomeo Bosco, one of the few mortals Diabol had ever gave a damn about in all his years. Bosco was a magician in the late 1700-early 1800s, one of Harry Houdini's idols. What Diabol appreciated about Bosco was that he freed him from a cooking pot hidden in an abandoned house. Damn tricksters! 

Diabol was one of the most power jinn there ever was, and he was tricked by a mortal to get into that pot. After he was freed, Bosco told him there was a vise attached to it, and that was the only reason he gave it a second look. Otherwise, he would have thrown it in the trash when he bought the property to build a new house on. Then, Bosco never was able to build. His three wishes went toward making his magic more electrifying, death defying, more crowd pleasing. He didn't ask for money. His life was devoted to the illusion and preservation of magic. Granted, Diabol wasn't in that pot for as long as he was trapped by Friday, but it was still years, and it ticked him off and was grateful to the man. 

Friday was still so fruitlessly trying to get away from him, Diabol had to laugh. There was no escape for her, she was going to pay. Diabol produced a cage on the roof of the hotel. As he pushed her toward the door, Friday's hand brushed against his coat and distinctly felt sharp metal. 

A sword? What in the hell did he need a sword for? Was he going to kill her master? With everything Richie Ryan was going through, a pissed off Afrit with a sword was the last thing he needed. Diabol shoved her in and then waved his hand. Friday expected the cage to squeeze her, or snakes to overtake her, or... something worse than she could ever imagine, he was too evil for her. What appeared was just that. Evil. A golden brace that held the magic of Diabol. "No, please," Friday begged. She tried to disappear, make herself invisible, become a bar of the cage, anything to fend off the inevitable.

"I do not know the meaning of the word, please." Diabol walked in the cage, cutting off any way for her to escape and pulled her close enough to put the brace around her neck. The clasp magically disappeared as soon as it was fastened. She was now totally under his power. Any power she would employ would only be to aide him.

He pushed her back, and stepped out of the cage. The door disappeared. "Please," she cried. "I am sorry."

"I do not believe you," he pressed his face against the bars and mocked her. "You will get a chance to help me. Oh boy, will you. Or you will die."

Friday settled back on the other side of the cage and tried to think of a way out, but couldn't. Her mind wouldn't let her. Then she realized he might be able to read her thoughts. Suddenly, she did the only thing she could do, clear her mind. Don't think of anything about anything... Soon, she was singing to herself, "Conjunction, junction... what is your function?... The wheels on the bus go 'round and 'round... Su-u-nny day, everything is A-okay... I am on my way... to where the air is sweet... can you tell---."

"Shut up!" Diabol screamed, making Friday lose some ostrich feathers and fire escaped from her wrists. She saw what he had been up to, and it was sharpening that sword of his. "If you can not think of anything helpful, do not think of anything at all. You are bothering me."

Friday walked to the other side of the cage as he was just a foot away on the freedom side, sitting on a luxurious throne, sharpening a katana. "What is that for?"

"You can not ask questions either."

"What does an all powerful jinn need with a sword?"

"To cut of heads, my dear."

"Why?"

"That's the way the game is played."

"How did you find out about immortals?" She knew he was strong, got around, but how did he stumble upon them?

Diabol stood and twirled the sword, making it disappear and the bulge appeared alongside his body under that long trench coat. "Because of you."

"Me?"

"I have been watching you. I have been waiting for the best opportunity to make you pay. You already offered herself for death, so just killing you wouldn't be thrilling enough for what you did to me. You have really been taken with your current master. I have eavesdropped on your conversations. Immortality is a very interesting concept. They must all be killed. There is no room in the universe for them and us. Me. When I found about the existence of Watchers, well..." he laughed. "They made my plan easier. Do you know they have every single immortal on the planet cataloged on a computer. It is so easy. I am going to get rid of them all. But, I am going to get rid of your Master and his friends first. And to make you really pay, you are going do it for me."

"Never." As soon as she said that word, she grabbed the brace, couldn't breath. It was choking her. She fell to her knees trying to get it loose. 

"Think about what you say and what you think, young jinniyah. You will help me. You have to pay for what you did."

She fell on her back about ready to pass out. Diabol walked around the cage to be near her head and simply stated, "Just say yes."

She shook her head and pulled at the brace. She turned her face away from him. Suddenly, he was in the cage with her, holding her hands away from her neck, pulling her up. "Say it!"

She wouldn't, and passed out, fully expecting to die. He dropped her to the concrete and loosened the brace. He paced as she laid still. "So, you just need a little convincing. I am glad to see your ethics are intact. You just have to figure which morals you need to hold dear from now on."

He walked over to her and kicked her leg, "Get up! You are not dead."

She tried to stay still, but an asp appeared at her chin. She bolted up and ran to the other side of the cage. Diabol laughed. "You always were scared of snakes." He picked up the asp and held it to her as she cowered in the corner. Tears ran down her face as she knew she was only a pawn from then on, clutching at the brace. She would rather die than betray her master. She would have to let her enemy win, she couldn't do it. Hopefully they can fend for themselves.

Diabol and that asp were inches away. Friday straightened and wiped the tears off her face. The asp's tongue slithered in and out of its mouth. She quickly put her hand over it's mouth and the snake clamped on. Friday could feel the poison wash into her bloodstream and in moments she would be dead, no use to her enemy. 

Diabol screamed and made the snake disappear. "Fool!" 

Friday fell to the concrete and felt the muscles of her heart constrict. It would only be a matter of time. All she could think, and hope, was that her master could be protected. She tried to put out a spell for him, but couldn't. Diabol grabbed her hand and rubbed the bite away, made the poison evaporate. With contempt, he dropped her hand and let her lay crumpled in the corner. He walked through the bars and sprawled on his throne.

"I have all the time in the world," he stated calmly, playing with the little sparks he allowed to escape his fingertips. "And so do your little friends."

* * *

**LOFT**

Duncan couldn't sleep. He didn't know if Richie was safe and felt like an idiot for just letting him walk out of the Quest unprotected. Amanda had no trouble sleeping. Richie mentioned the Vivaldi Garden Apartments... Candy... Duncan hadn't even gotten the woman's last name to call and check up on him. Yes, he was acting like an overprotective parent, but how else could he think? Richie was alive! It was still so unbelievable, but it was true. And there was nothing in this world that was going to get in his way to live a long, full, happy life. Not if there was anything Duncan could do about it.

He got up and dressed and went out the side door so the elevator wouldn't wake Amanda. He needed to check up on him, but he didn't need her to tease him about it. He'd be back before she awoke anyway, hopefully, if all goes well. He just needed to know that Friday was at his beck and call.

He parked the T-Bird at the curb on Shea, across the street from the Vivaldi Apartments. They weren't what you would call chic. Candy must be really underpaid to have to live in such a dump. He'd have to mention it to Methos that the help should get a raise. The buzzers only had last names listed, and it was the middle of the night. Instead of picking buttons at random and waking the entire building, he walked around it for any lights on, or better yet, any immortal buzz sensation. 

Richie held Candy in his arms on the nice, comfortable queen bed and slept like a baby. He snapped awake though when he felt the distinct buzz ring throughout his body. He had his sword in his coat, but it was really the last thing he expected. He slid out of bed, not wanting to wake Candy or she'd be as frightened as he was and got into his pants. 

He quietly walked to the living room window with his sword in his hand and looked out. A face looked back. They both screamed. Richie grabbed his chest and moaned, "Mac! What the hell are you doing here? You scared me to death!"

Candy hollered from the bedroom, "Rich? What's going on?"

"Nothing," he moaned. "I stubbed my toe. Go back to sleep." He opened the window and told Duncan, "Go home."

"Come out here and talk."

Richie groaned, shut the window and put on his jacket. They met by the side door of the building. Duncan asked, "Are you okay here?"

"Yes."

"Where's Friday?"

"I don't know. I don't want her here now."

"Why not?"

"I'm with somebody?"

Duncan demanded, "Call her so I know and I can get back to bed myself. I can't sleep."

"Mac..."

"Call her!"

"Friday?"

The two immortals looked at each other as nothing happened. "Friday!"

Richie asked him, "What did you do to her? Is this a trick? Methos can't own airspace."

"I just... I had a feeling. Come out here and call her again."

"I'll get locked out. My stuff is in there."

Duncan put a rock in the doorway and dragged Richie by the arm to the yard, "Call her."

"Friday!"

They looked around and there was no response. Duncan asked, "Has she ever played with you before?"

"In what way?"

"Not come when called?"

"No."

"Could she be jealous that you..." he pointed at Candy's apartment.

"I wouldn't think so, we're not... you know."

"I don't like this, you're coming with me."

"I'm sleeping, Mac. I'll be back in the morning."

"No, you're coming with me right now. I have a feeling and you can't be out here alone."

Richie put his hand on Duncan's shoulder and said, "Mac, I appreciate it, but I'm a grown man. When I first turned under your watch, did you watch me 24 hours a day?"

"No."

"Then why now?"

"I lost you once, Rich, I can't lose you again. Please. For my own piece of mind, come with me."

Richie appreciated that and smiled, happy that he had a big brother type to look after him. He looked around the yard and said, "That is strange Friday hasn't come. Maybe she's a tree or something. Friday, come on, show yourself."

Nothing. "That is strange."

"Let's go," Duncan said. "I'll be waiting in the car while you say goodbye to Candy."

* * *

Instead of bringing Richie to the loft, Duncan brought him over to Methos'. Needless to say, Methos wasn't pleased about feeling a buzz at 3 in the morning, and seeing Richie at his door didn't make him any cheerier. "I was enjoying my solitude," he muttered as he walked away from the left open door.

Duncan shut the door behind them after he and Richie walked in. "He's got to stay here." The great exhale of Methos' only agitated Duncan. "No discussion."

Richie said, "There's got to be a more comfortable couch in the world, Mac."

"Yeah," Methos agreed. "The one at the loft is wonderful to make yourself comfortable in."

"Amanda's there. Three's a crowd."

Methos suggested, "Well, we can exchange guests, MacLeod. You take Richie and Amanda is welcomed here."

"Get over yourself," the Highlander spouted.

"I try," Methos said, getting back into bed. "Lock up when you leave, MacLeod. Blankets are in the closet. Good night."

"That couch is really uncomfortable, Mac."

"I'll buy a new one tomorrow for you."

"It had better match my decor," Methos groaned from his bed.

After Duncan left, and Richie tried to settle into the awful couch, his mind turned to Friday. Why didn't she come when he called her? Could she have really been mad about his conquest? Jealous? Or angry she was left out at the Quest? She was a touchy sort. Her emotions went from hot to cold in seconds. Well, Richie was feeling good. He was young, good looking, alive, he had what seemed to be good friends, he had a jinniyah at his beck and call, usually, he had two more wishes, he just met a great gal who wasn't upset he left in the middle of the night. Yep, things were good. If only that bar didn't go right across his back, things would be perfect.

  
  


******CONTINUED** in Diabolic

   [1]: mailto:EnyaJo@aol.com



	3. Diabolic

**THE FRIDAY SERIES 3**

**DIABOLIC**

by JoLayne  
[EnyaJo@aol.com][1]

**RATING**: PG

**CHARACTERS**: DM M J A R Cassandra OCs Friday, Diabol, Han

**SUMMARY**: I promise Richie uses up his last two wishes here.

* * *

**DOJO**

Richie and Duncan had a session, not with swords, or even a plan. They were just using the day to talk, and Richie wanted to strength train. He worked the bench press, while Duncan meditated. Duncan saw that Richie's muscle tone was much the same as before he lost his head. He seemed just like his student in every physical aspect, but the kid couldn't remember himself, his teacher, old friends, and his taste in clothes and favored mode of transportation was the polar opposite of the Richie he knew. Richie's quickening inside Duncan's soul had seemed to quiet down after the immediate shock of their first meeting at the barge, just a little over a week before. The only time Duncan heard Richie in stereo, from both the inside and Richie himself, was when he was upset. 

Duncan knew it wasn't a possibility, but if he could wish for anything to come true, it would be to give Richie back his memories. It saddened Duncan that he lost everything in his mind that had to do with his progress in life, who he met, what he did, lessons learned. The last thing Duncan would want was to never again remember Sean Burns, Hugh Fitzcairn, Tessa, any of the magnificent people he had come across in his life. 

Richie put the pole on the stand and looked over at Duncan in a lotus position on the floor, "Can you put another couple pounds on for me?"

"Sure," Duncan leaned over him to fasten the weights. "Just don't stress yourself."

"If I pull a muscle, it'll heal, Mac." Richie laughed as he lifted the bar again. "I lost my head and it healed."

"That's nothing to joke about, Rich."

Richie said, "I'm not making light of it, Mac. I just can't get over how happy I am. I don't think I've ever felt this... free." After a few more presses, he set the pole back on the stand and sat up. "I don't remember what I was, so I don't know my mistakes, and I'm sure there were many."

Duncan just shrugged and let the comment pass. The kid did have a habit of not taking his bits of wisdom, then later admit he was wrong. That was the past. Richie noticed Duncan's lack of eye contact and said, "Maybe that's a good thing. Having mistakes grating on you must be tough."

"You can say that again," Duncan muttered, finishing up his meditation.

"I don't have to think about it," Richie happily commented. "I know I made one good decision, and that was my freebie."

"I couldn't agree more," Duncan joined Richie's smile of serenity that he was actually alive, and they were able to start over again. 

Richie looked around and that feeling of being cooped up overcame him again, "Where's Amanda?"

"She had a thing. I don't know."

Richie said, "Candy's got class this afternoon, then has to go right to work. I should ask Methos to give her a paid vacation."

"I'm sure he's a silent partner in the Quest."

"Let's do something," Richie stood. "Let's get out. I need air."

Duncan stood and nodded, "I guess we did enough for the day. What do you have in mind?"

Richie decided, "I want a car."

Duncan chuckled, "Do you have that much cash? Do you need a loan?"

"A loan?" Richie laughed. "No. I don't need a loan. I got Friday. Friday!"

"You want to waste a wish on a car?"

"It's not wasting a wish. I don't like having to rely on someone else to bring me anywhere. I gotta get out. Friday!"

* * *

**HOTEL ROOF**

Friday laid curled up in the middle of the cage, so Diabol couldn't touch her from the outside. If he wanted to fool with her again, he'd have to come inside, and she could figure a way to get past him and out the door. After he healed the snake bite, she once again scolded herself for trying to commit suicide, for the second time in her life. She couldn't fly off the handle anymore! She needed to think things through, turn off her emotions as they would probably be her undoing. Diabol always had brought out the worst in her and he always will. 

Friday gripped the golden brace he had magically fastened around her neck. The hopelessness of the situation made her want to once again cry like a damn baby, but she had to think. Diabol was not going to get the satisfaction of seeing her cry, or kill her, or any of her new-found friends.

Richie called. Friday knew she still had the power to return her master, but she stayed put. That brace around her neck and Diabol's relaxed manner toward her only brought home the point that whatever she would encounter, whatever magic she would manufacture, would only be for the betterment of Diabol and his dastardly plans, the latest one was to rid the planet of immortals. 

Diabol wrapped his long fingers around two bars of the cage and thrust his face through. "Laminae, you are being called, my dear."

"I did not hear anything."

The smile that creased Diabol's face made her want to rip it off. Not by magic, but good old fashioned scratching her fingernails into his flesh. "Go see what he wants. Gather information for me. I will bring you back when I am satisfied."

"I can not," Friday firmly stated, surprising Diabol. "With this brace, I am not going within ten miles of him. Besides, I can not serve two masters at the same time. You know that."

"Master...," Diabol savored the word. "I believe I have waited 2000 years for you to acknowledge my power over you."

"That was never the argument, Diabol," Friday finally looked at the monster. "I know perfectly well that you are more powerful than I."

Richie called for her again, making Friday cringe and cower her head into her lap.

* * *

**DOJO**

Duncan and Richie both looked around the gym for her appearance. It was strange Friday hadn't come to him at all since he left the Quest with Candy. In fact, Richie hadn't seen her since they walked into the club. Methos told him that morning over coffee that her absence at Joe's performance was because he banished her from all his properties and no amount of arguing on Richie's part would ever make him rescind it. 

Richie touched some furniture and weapons for warmth, to see if she was fooling with him, spying on him. "Where is she? She can't be jealous of last night. Could she?"

Duncan shrugged, "You'd know more than me. What was your relationship?"

Richie shrugged. "I don't know. I think of her as an aunt, actually. Sometimes, more. Like a sister. Mother." Then Richie nodded and acknowledged, "My best friend."

Methos walked in to see the immortals not going through the motions of a training session and was glad. "Good, Mac, I need to talk to you. Privately, kid."

"Fine. Friday! Come on," Richie pleaded to the thin air.

Methos, who had been on his way into the office for that private conversation, looked around the dojo for the nuisance, then smiled at Richie when he didn't see her. When Richie accusingly stared at him, he put up his hands in defense, "Hey, it wasn't me. I let her in here." He sauntered to the office door saying, "Take it as a good sign, kid. If she's not around, you don't have to put up with her."

"Methos," Richie whined. "She's my friend."

"To each his own," Methos shrugged and waited in the office for Duncan to join him. As soon as the Highlander finally joined him, Methos shut the door behind them.

Amanda waltzed into the dojo, in a very good mood. "Where's Mac?"

Richie nodded to the office, "Confidential older immortal talk. I'm not allowed, I guess."

She waved her hand, "It's probably boring anyway." She set her leather tote bag on the bench press and noticed Richie looked a little down. She rubbed her hands together in glee and pulled out a folded paper out of her bag, "Hey, Rich. What do you know about Norway?"

He shrugged, "I know how to spell it. Why?"

"I just had lunch with an old friend," she unfolded the large paper, which was a map. "It seems to me, a trip to Bergen is on my itinerary."

"Why?"

"The Eye of Odin," Amanda announced as Richie looked at the handmade map drawn on sienna colored parchment.

"The Eye of a Norse God? Amanda, I may not remember much, but those Gods didn't really exist, or have eyes."

"I know that. Besides, Odin only had one eye. But, to get back to what's important, The Eye of Odin is an ancient jewel, a blue diamond. I had it in my hand about 800 years ago." She spread the parchment map out on the floor and knelt down to study it. "Then I lost it."

"Lost it?" Richie squatted down and looked at the confusing map that didn't look like the outline of Norway at all. "You had too many diamonds laying around and misplaced it?"

"No," she sat on the floor, putting her ankles under her. "There's an old legend that the thief of the Eye of Odin would have nothing but bad luck. And by everything I know, it's true. That stupid stone couldn't possibly have known I was only returning it to its rightful owner."

"Sort of like the Hope Diamond?"

"Exactly like the Hope Diamond, only this jewel is cursed from 'the Gods', not by an jeweler with an imagination who wanted to sell an overpriced necklace to a rich Frenchman."

"If you had the Eye of Odin once, why did you lose it?"

"There was an avalanche. I guess I dropped it. It was days before Rebecca dug me out."

"Rebecca was a good friend?" Richie said, "It's nice to have friends to dig you out of avalanches."

"She was my teacher, Richie," Amanda solemnly stated. "I owe everything to Rebecca."

"Where is she? I'd like to meet her."

"She was taken," Amanda said, taking a moment to give a silent prayer to her memory. She had to return that jewel for her. They spent a hundred years looking for it after it was stolen by Vikings, only to lose it in an avalanche. It's return was important for Rebecca. "The Eye of Odin isn't it's true name," Amanda told Richie. "Those bastards renamed it after they snatched it. It's actually the "Star of the North", and is British. And I want it."

"You want to forage through snow and glaciers to find a colored rock?"

"I don't think they have glaciers any more," Amanda pause. "Do they?"

"How come you've waited 800 years to get it back?" Richie then realized the woman was actually over a thousand years old and looked at her for the first time, again. He smiled as it hit him again that immortality was so cool. He couldn't believe he was one of them and had many years, centuries ahead of him. "And why do you need a map? The same mountain's there, right?"

Amanda paused, "Yes," she said, "but after the avalanche, Rebecca and I went south, thinking it was a lost cause. Then, over the centuries, I forgot which mountain it was. There are a lot of mountains in Scandinavia." She touched Han's map and got excited again, "Rebecca told the story to Han Ritcher, who I just had lunch with. He's been doing some investigating and zeroed in to where we must have been. They've commercialized the area he traced the mountain to, so... it might not be that hard to dig it up, if someone else hasn't already found it. If Han did find the right area, I'll be able to sniff it out."

"How old is this Han?"

"I don't know. I usually don't ask immortals. He's around my age, I guess." Amanda grinned, "Han's such a sweetheart, you'll like him. Maybe you want to come with me."

"I don't know. That sounds out of my league. Maybe I can ask Friday and it would make it easier for you." Richie offered, "My second wish?"

Amanda was touched he'd give up a wish for her and kissed him on the cheek, then said, "No, you keep them for yourself. But thanks, that's very sweet. I **_know_**__ you and Han'll get along." Amanda thought that Friday's help with the search was very intriguing, indeed. They had been getting a little closer during their shopping spree, maybe she'd be willing to help. 

* * *

**OFFICE**

"You don't understand." Methos sighed, sitting on Duncan's desk. "I **_saw_**__ her."

"Did you talk to her?"

"Are you crazy?"

"No, I'm **_not_** crazy, Methos," Duncan spouted. "Maybe you are. I'm sure it's all in the past. I've talked to Cassandra since Paris, and she hasn't mentioned you."

"Good! I'm steering clear of her."

"Fine, then why do you feel the need to tell me?"

"I was wondering why she's in town." Methos looked through the glass that formed the wall between the office and the dojo to see Amanda and Richie talking. "Did you invite her?"

"No, and she hasn't looked me up."

"It could be that she's planning something and knew you wouldn't help her, so--."

"Planning to get you? Don't you think she would have done something by now if she was? In fact, she had an axe to..." Duncan didn't want to bring up that part of the man's history again, it wouldn't get them anywhere. Duncan saw Amanda and knew Richie wanted to do something, and really wanted to get out of the conversation with Methos, so he just shook his head and said, "You're just being paranoid. Seacouver's a big city. See ya."

Meanwhile, Richie was trying to summon that bundle of magic herself, but to no avail, even Amanda got worried. Friday had been Richie's shadow, she should have appeared when called the first time. "Friday!" Richie's voice was almost soprano as he called once again when Mac and Methos walked back into the dojo.

"I'm **_not_** paranoid," Methos firmly stated. 

The eighth time Richie summoned his jinniyah seemed to be the charm as that's when Friday appeared on the banister of steps to the locker rooms. She didn't make a sound. Before the others noticed her, she went back and forth about leaving. She hoped Richie hadn't called because he was in danger. Checking out the surroundings, she didn't see any for him. Except Methos. Methos! Friday glared at him in a new light, checked out his body language. It was too much of a coincidence that both Methos and Diabol re-entered her life at the same time, when they were tied to what happened to her back in Egypt. 

While Duncan, Amanda and Methos debated how suspicious Methos was, or wasn't, depending on who you listened to, Friday's mind was racing. Methos could been the reason Diabol found her! They could have been working together! He'd done nothing but sneer at her since he walked into Duncan's barge in Paris. Friday was happy to blame everything on Methos, that Diabol found her. She'd covered her tracks very well over the years, and Diabol still found her, just after she met up with Methos again. It was a very big coincidence.

Friday was ready to turn Methos into that toad she'd been salivating to do, but then remembered that his snotty behavior could have been because she had turned him into an ass, broke his shoulder blade, knocked him over and made his mouth disappear all in the span of a week. Methos was the one who bought her freedom and made her come to her senses the other time she was ready to end it all. For that, she was grateful to him for making her see the stupidity of her 'sacrificial' bent. But since they didn't part on good terms, Friday had to wonder if Methos could have kept up his acquaintance with Diabol all those years, and invited him to get rid of her.

Duncan spotted Friday and bonked Richie on the arm, "She's here." Then he called to her, "Hey, how long have you been there?"

Richie spun around, "Where have you been? I've been calling you all day. I thought you were supposed to come when I call."

"I am not a dog and do not fetch. I am banished, remember?" She looked Methos over for any indication that he was indeed behind Diabol's return.

"Don't go blaming me for slipping up in your jinniyah duties," Methos warned. He didn't need to get blamed for anything more. "I rescinded the banishment on this place."

Amanda cooed, "Friday! I love your necklace." It was best to butter up the jinniyah before asking about a favor to find the Star of the North. "Is that real gold? Gold jewelry never goes out of style," she said, even though she thought a big chunky gold choker was a little on the gaudy side. She walked up the steps to examine the brace, but before she could reach her, Friday disappeared. Amanda slapped her leg and moaned, "Come on. I didn't mean to scare you. Come back."

"I am right here," Friday said from the other side of the dojo.

"Quit that," Methos said. 

"Why?"

"It's annoying." Methos shook his head and waved goodbye, "I'm off."

"To where?" Friday wondered if she would follow him to see if he had a meeting arranged with Diabol.

"What do you care?"

"Do you have people to see?"

"Yeah, and other things."

"Who?"

"Huh?"

Richie's head stopped bouncing back and forth from Friday to Methos like he was watching a tennis match and told Friday, "Let's go car shopping. I'll pick out the classic I want and I'll make that second wish."

Friday tore her eyes off Methos to look at her master. "You want to waste your second wish on a material object?"

Duncan said, "That's what I told him."

Methos turned back from the door to scrutinize the jinniyah. There hadn't been a sour comment, no magic aimed at his direction, he still had all his body parts, there had to be something wrong, or she was lying in wait to do something when he least expected it.

Friday thought it over. If Richie got through his wishes, she wouldn't have anymore ties to him, or the others. She could be free of Methos, and by extension, Diabol, and Richie would be safe. "Fine, Master. Let us go."

"Wait," Amanda caught her arm. "I'll go with you."

"Why?" Friday and Richie both asked.

"I'm the shopping expert here," Amanda pointed out the obvious. "Then I can have a nice little chat, Friday."

"Wait, wait, wait," Methos said. "What's going on?"

Amanda said, "I've become taken with Richie's friend, and I hope to make Friday **_my_** friend."

"I am your..." Friday began, but stopped, knowing Diabol could hear every word that was said. He couldn't know how she felt about any of them. 

"My what? Friend?" Amanda looked hopefully at Friday. She really needed her help, make it easier to get that jewel. She put the map back into her tote and slung it over her shoulder, ready to leave.

"Acquaintance," Friday corrected. "I do not have friends."

Richie muttered, "What about me?"

Friday faced him to say the words she needed to at the moment for Diabol's ears, "You are only my master. Let me get you a car and finish your second wish and then the third and then I can get out of here."

"Okay," Richie said, bummed. She was tired of him already. The thought that he wouldn't have her anymore was what Richie guessed would be like leaving your mother for the first time, like when a person went off to college. "Mac? Did I ever go to college?"

"No."

"When did my mother die?"

"When you were a kid."

"Let us go," Friday told Richie, taking his hand, not wanting to relive old home week, with a set of ears eavesdropping.

"Wait," Methos pulled Richie away. "What are you up to?"

"I am fulfilling my jinniyah duty. Do you have a problem with that? Am I to do something else for you, perhaps?"

Methos held up his hands, "No. No thank you. It's just that... you're so calm today."

Friday ignored him and told Duncan, "Mr. MacLeod, I will have Master back by dinnertime."

"Hey, I'm not a kid," Richie interrupted. "**_I'll_** drive home by dinnertime. Have something good ready."

"I'm not your servant," Duncan said. "Bring back take-out for dinner."

"Do you want to come with, Mac?"

"No," Duncan looked at Friday and had enough magic in his life. "I have things to do around here."

Friday took Richie's hand again and waved her own. "Don't forget me," Amanda clamped onto Friday's frizzy hair, and she disappeared along with them.

Methos and Mac looked at each other, shrugged. "There's something up, my friend. I hope you can take care of it."

"Going someplace?"

"Yes. Friday and Cassandra are two people I've decided to stay away from. I'm going far away."

As Methos walked out, Mac whispered, "Chicken."

"Sticks and stones, MacLeod," Methos said, taking the stairs down to the ground level and out to his SUV.

* * *

**COUNTRY ROAD**

Richie whooped as he sped a Camaro down the road. Amanda had fastened the seat belt as she saw the speedometer creep over 90. Before she could suggest he slow down, he did on his own, "I don't know. This doesn't seem to be my style, either. Try again, Friday."

Friday sighed in the back seat, looking out the side window. Kids, they really did have a tough time making up their mind. She hoped Richie would have come up with something better than a car for his second wish, but to each his own. She just wanted him to quickly choose and she could stay away from him, negating the danger from Diabol. 

She tapped the seat and they were suddenly inside a Mustang Fastback. Richie had to adjust to driving a different car, then said, "This is better, but not quite right."

Friday turned the vehicle turn into a GTO, bored, and nervous. "Will you make up your mind?"

Amanda asked her, "Can you get something from this decade?"

Richie said, "No. I like the 70's classics. But then again, since I'm test driving, how about a brand new Ferrari?"

Friday asked, "Testarosa?"

"Sure!"

Friday knew that as soon as Richie drove one, he'd want it, so she asked, "What color?"

"Red, of course."

Richie was driving one before he comprehended that he was driving a Ferrari. "Hey! A convertible! This is great!" He looked at the dash, "How do you take the top down?"

Amanda laughed, having always loved Ferraris herself. "You can ask her to do it."

Friday made the top disappear and moped. She liked her master, maybe even loved him, but she would have to leave before Diabol could use him to his advantage, or kill him, just because he could. She was suspicious of Methos, but why would an immortal help someone wipe the planet of his own kind? He was too smart for that. Joe had explained the rules of immortality to her and Richie, so she got the thought that Methos wanted to be 'The One', and Diabol taking out his opponents would make it easier for him.

Richie said, "I want something better, faster. You have any suggestions, Friday?"

She couldn't get the name Diabol out of her mind. "What would you think of a Lamborghini Diablo?"

"Sounds cool, yes!"

"Fine," Friday waved her hand and made it so.

The red Testarosa turned into a silver Diablo. "Now this is just about perfect!" Richie adjusted his posture and fingered all the controls. He pressed down on the accelerator and the motor spoke to him. His butt sat perfectly in the seat and truly felt like the car was manufactured just for him. "What kind of insurance does it take? And licenses? That could be really, really out of my league."

Amanda suggested, "Why not make license and insurance part of your wish?"

"Can I do that?"

Friday said, "Not really, but I will throw it in. Is this what you want?"

"Yes."

"Say it."

Richie looked at her in the rear view mirror, "You're not going to talk me out of it? It's not stupid?"

"If it is what you want, it is not stupid."

Richie smiled to Amanda and thought about the wording of the wish. He cleared his throat and stated, "I wish I had this car, and a lifetime supply of gas, oil, maintenance, continually up to date insurance and license tabs." He kept driving, looking back at Friday in the rear view mirror. "It happened?"

"Yes, what is your third wish?"

Richie laughed. "I don't know. Let me enjoy this one." He revved the engine and they zipped down the road.

Amanda told Friday. "I was watching you. You didn't bat an eye or anything when you gave that wish."

"The wishes are already his," Friday said. "He just needs to say the words in my presence."

Friday looked back out the side window and wondered if she could just disappear, get away from them until Richie made his third wish. Amanda saw her disinterest and knew it wasn't normal. Friday's exuberance, every quirk the jinniyah had since meeting her, was nonexistent. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing." Friday couldn't even begin to tell them the truth of the matter, Diabol could hear, and would probably kill them both on the spot.

Amanda shook her head and repositioned herself to look forward. Richie said, "This is a **_great_** car. You should get one like this."

"It is a nice car, but it's not my style."

Richie looked at her, "Let me guess.... BMW, Mercedes, Rolls Royce."

"They sound nice." Amanda looked around the brand new car, then smelled the fresh, clean, factory smell new cars have. Maybe it was time to trade in her Benz. If she did anything, it would have to be after she returned from finding the Star of the North. "I wonder if Mac would want to come with me," she mused.

"To Bergen?"

Friday looked at them both and studied every word they said, as she knew she was Diabol's eyes and ears. She hoped they wouldn't say too much about their plans so Diabol would be able to find them.

"Yeah," Amanda patted her totebag. Han was wonderful for narrowing the area down for them. He always liked doing his homework, even though it had taken him centuries. "Han's even made airline reservations. We should be in Bergen by the weekend."

Friday moaned from the back seat, "Do not talk." 

Amanda turned around, "Why not?"

Any information of their whereabouts shouldn't be stated in her presence. Friday got even more uncomfortable, and realized it was because the brace was tightening for disobeying Diabol. "I am leaving."

Richie said, "No."

"Why not?"

"I said so?"

"Then quit talking. Drive back to the dojo."

Richie stopped the car and looked back at her. He was tired of her attitude, and thought she was jealous about Candy. "Friday, I'm going to see who I want. You're going to have to deal with it."

"I do not care," she quickly stated, not sounding the least persuasive.

"Yeah, right." He turned back to drive and peeled out. Friday went back and forth about leaving, but also wanted to make sure her master and friend weren't in danger. The brace got even more tight around her neck. She was ready to wave her hand and leave, but didn't have anywhere to go. The only other place she could go was back in that cage.

Amanda started in on her plans and the map and Friday cut her off. "Do not talk about specifics! And yes, you should go as soon as possible. Just do not tell me where you are going!" Maybe she could get them all to scatter to the winds and someone would be able to stop Diabol before he accomplished killing them. The brace choked her more for her thoughts. "I am sorry," she cried out.

Amanda said, "No problem."

"Not you."

"Huh?"

Friday yelled, "Just drive, Richie!"

He did. Since the brace suddenly loosened, she didn't think it was because she had apologized to Diabol. Friday realized that Diabol was satisfied they were returning to Duncan, and maybe Methos.

Friday said, "Drive anywhere but the dojo."

"Why?"

"Because I said so!"

"Methos isn't there," Richie said as he looked at her in the rear view window.

Suddenly, Friday appeared in miniature sitting on the steering wheel. "Go somewhere else! Anywhere! Make a third wish so I can get away from you!"

Richie veered from surprise of having her right in front of him, then said, "I'm going back to the dojo for dinner and show Mac my new car. Just settle down. It's all right."

"No, it is **_not_**!"

Little Friday tried to make the car turn onto another road at an intersection, but it wouldn't. It wasn't because of Richie, it was because Diabol wanted them to go back to the dojo, and the other immortals. "Please," Friday told them, clutching at the brace on her neck while sitting on the steering wheel. She kicked Richie's finger to make sure she had his attention. "I have to tell you something. Richie, I do not want you to ever go back to Mr. MacLeod again. Or Methos. Or Amanda. Or any immortal until it is safe. Please."

Richie said he didn't understand, but by her tears, there had to be a good reason. "Okay," he said, then turned onto a different road. Friday sat in the back seat, felt the brace loosen and took a deep, cleansing breath.

Amanda turned on the radio and they talked about nothing in particular. Friday could hear Diabol rumble in her ear, but the brace was loose, wasn't tightening. She couldn't understand why he wasn't doing anything physical to her for disobeying him. That could only mean Diabol was going to do something to them! "No," she screamed.

A tree appeared in the middle of the road and they crashed right into it. Instantly, Friday was hovering over the top of the crash with Diabol holding Friday up by the brace. He laughed in her ear, "Now, look at what you made me do."

There was blood on the right side of the smashed windshield and sparks flew. "NO!" Friday cried out. Joe had explained quickenings to her and Richie in Paris. Those sparks had to be coming from Amanda! The crash must have severed her neck! "NO!"

Friday was dumped on the concrete floor of the cage and Diabol kicked her, making her smash into the bars on the other side. She jumped up and actually thought she could attack Diabol, spewing fire and clawing at him. "You are a complete bastard!"

With a blink of his eye that released a gale force wind, Friday was plastered back against the bars. "Fool!"

Friday promptly yelled back, "What did Amanda ever do to you?"

Diabol stopped the wind and slammed the door of the cage. He looked at her through the bars, then quietly, but firmly stated, "Because she existed."

"She was a good woman," Friday whimpered. 

Diabol smiled, "Amanda is only the first. I am going to pick them off one by one. And you, Laminae, are going to have a front row seat."

She collapsed, knowing Amanda's death was on her hands. Just like the rest of their deaths would be, and there was nothing she could do about it. She couldn't warn them without Diabol knowing. She collapsed to the floor and cried for Amanda, remembering their one shopping excursion and how the threads of their budding friendship had made her feel like she belonged in their group.

* * *

**COUNTY ROAD**

Richie revived behind the wheel of his destroyed second wish. It took him a minute to realize what happened and that he was actually looking at the bark of a massive oak tree just outside the Lamborghini's windshield. Sparks crackled from the crumpled hood and he knew they had to get out of there. He saw Amanda's body laying against the dashboard, facing away from him, but the backseat was empty. Where was Friday? Was she thrown free, or intentionally disappeared? Why would she leave when there was an accident?

He shook Amanda, but didn't feel her buzz. He leaned her back on her arm. Blood was all over her head, and had dripped down her face. Amanda looked like she went through a blender from smashing into the windshield, but thankfully, her head was still attached. A fire ignited under the hood. Smoke instantly filled the car. He opened the door and fell out, pulling Amanda from under her arms.

Richie slid them across the road away from the blaze and laid Amanda down just as she revived. She sat up and brushed at the blood on her head, then saw the burning car. "My map!" She bolted up and looked around the ground. "Did you get my bag out of there?"

"No, I barely got us out."

"The map was in there! Han is going to **_kill_** me!"

"The map is in my second wish! No fair! Why didn't you tell me!?" He stood at screamed at the skies, "Friday!"

Amanda hesitantly got to her feet and wobbled, "What happened?"

He tilted his head to the car, "Take a guess. She made a tree appear out of nowhere!"

Amanda held her hand away from her face as the healing took over the cuts and bruises. "God damn," she realized. "That was close. I could have gone right through the windshield. I could have lost my head! Why would she do that?"

"I don't know?! But how else could a tree root itself in the middle of a paved road if it wasn't magic?!"

"That bitch!" Amanda paced. "She was awfully anxious to make you make a second wish. She must have had that planned all along."

Richie yelled again, "Friday!"

"Now I know how Methos feels. That bitch!" She joined Richie in yelling, "Friday!"

After they were both hoarse and she hadn't reappeared to explain herself, they looked at each other. Amanda asked, "Where are we?"

"In the middle of nowhere. That must have also been her plan. I hope she's having a great laugh right now." Richie paced a bit, then stared at the long, desolate road that lead back to the city. "I guess we're walking."

Amanda grumbled, "I'll have you know, I'm wearing high heels."

"I'm not carrying you," Richie muttered, walking backward so he could see for one last time, his great second wish he owned for only a moment. "Why didn't she say she didn't want to give me that wish instead of coyly asking, 'You want to waste your second wish on a material object?' Man!"

"Just keep walking, Rich, maybe someone will drive by, or we can get to a phone." Amanda took her shoes off. "You know, I had my cell phone in that bag, too."

"I thought you were more important to get out! Okay? I made a mistake."

Amanda patted his shoulder, "No, you didn't. Thanks for getting me out. Healing from burns really hurts."

"When were you burned?"

Figuring they had many miles to travel, Amanda told him all about the first, and only, time she ever fiddled with chemicals.

* * *

**MIDNIGHT**

Duncan had been worried since dinnertime and didn't know where to even start to look for Amanda and Richie. Friday could have taken them to car showrooms in Europe for all he knew, to manufacturing plants anywhere in the world. His mind was in a whirl. When he reached the point of desperation, he called Methos to see if they had ended up there, or Friday had fun with him at all since they left the dojo. He got his answering machine. Boy, when Methos said he was leaving town, he didn't mess around. 

Duncan looked out the window at the street below and didn't see any trace of them. He called Joe. "I was just about to turn in, Mac," Joe said, thinking it was just a social call. "Thanks for seeing us play last night. How were we?"

"Great, just great," Duncan said. "Say, have you seen hide or hair of Amanda or Richie today?"

"No. Not since last night. Why?"

All of a sudden, Friday fell through the office door and landed on the floor, as if kicked, which was exactly what happened. Diabol sent her to spy, and since she wasn't willing, he forced her.

Duncan just laughed at the suddenness of her entry, and how she had trouble picking herself up from the floor. Joe asked, "What?"

"She's here."

"Who?"

"Friday," Duncan said with relief. "She has to know where they are. Sorry to bother you, Joe."

"No problem."

"Good night." When Duncan replaced the receiver, it felt hot. He kept his hand on it, and it cooled off just as suddenly. Strange. So was the woman who was straightening up, adjusting her clothes, and once again, she had an ostrich feather pinned in her hair. He asked, "Where's Richie? Did he get a car?"

"Yes." Friday quietly said, stepped out into the dojo to stay away from him. Distance would probably be a good thing when he found out what happened.

"Where is he and Amanda?"

"Amanda..." Friday couldn't help herself from crying once again, as her heart was broken. 

Duncan put his hand on her back and asked, "What's the matter?"

She quickly stepped away from what she knew would be his coming wrath, "It was not my fault, Mr. MacLeod. I know you are not going to believe me, but I did not do it. I swear."

"Do what?"

"K...," Friday's hand flew to her mouth, then admitted, "Kill Amanda."

"What?!"

She jumped back from his yell and hurriedly explained, "There was a car accident. I did not do it." Her hand clung to the brace, as it tightened because she was telling him it wasn't her fault. Diabol didn't want anyone to know there was another Jinn controlling things. "She... she lost her head. I am sorry."

"Oh, my God," Duncan fell back. "A car accident? Lost her head?"

"I can not be here, but I can not go anywhere," Friday cried out, lost and alone. "Please tell Richie to forfeit his last wish and free himself from me. Please. I have to leave."

"Wait a minute!" Duncan grabbed her. "You can't tell me Amanda was killed and not explain! You're not going anywhere." She could hear Diabol in her head, laughing. Duncan shook her, "What did you do?"

"Nothing! Lately..." Friday pulled herself away from him. "It was all too long ago for you to understand. Methos might, but you couldn't."

Duncan felt a buzz. Because he dropped his hold on Friday's arm, she instantly disappeared. He saw through the office window that Richie and Amanda walked in. Duncan ran to her, grabbed her face and deeply kissed her, after having expected to never see her again. Amanda was confused, but rolled with it. Duncan checked her over as she wiped a tear from his cheek. "God Mac, I should come home more often."

"She said you were dead!" The only remnant of an accident he could see was some torn clothes, ruined high heels and a little dried blood on her head that she missed when she tried to clean it off in a convenience store bathroom.

"Who? Friday? She's here? Where?" She surveyed the dojo. "I'm going to **_kill_** her."

"What happened?"

"Richie crashed the car. Where is she? Friday!"

Richie joined in. "Come on, Friday!" After the long walk and hitchhiking, he came to his senses that his best friend wouldn't have done something so awful to him. Friday had to be one he could trust, and did.

Friday appeared by the rack of sticks, "There is big trouble. I am sorry. He did it. You have to hurry!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Joe Dawson. Diabol heard you talking to him on the phone, Mr. MacLeod, and he took him!"

Amanda lunged at Friday, ready to rip her head off for pulling that stunt with the car and making them walk for miles. Friday's eyes grew wide, ecstatic, "Amanda! You are alive!"

"You bet your ass I am!" Amanda grabbed her, but Friday slipped through her fingers and reappeared on the other side of the dojo. 

Duncan pulled Amanda back, "What about Joe? Who's Diabol?"

Friday collapsed to the floor clutching at the necklace that was once again getting smaller. She had gotten away just for the moment as Diabol was settling Joe in the cage. He knew she had disobeyed him. "Be careful. I can not help you. Please," the brace was closing off her air supply. "Save him... magic... hotel..."

Friday brought herself back to the hotel, not wanting to leave Joe alone with Diabol. Joe was sitting on an elaborate rocking chair in the cage. Friday's brace loosened as Diabol turned to her, "I do not want any harm to come to the mortal. My guest will be comfortable, as long as he gives me what I want and you behave. You try that trick again, and I will not bother choking you," Diabol was right in front of her face when he said, "Joseph Dawson will die in your absence." 

Diabol shoved Friday into the cage with Joe and slammed the door. Joe was at a loss at how and why he even ended up there, and by who the jerk was. Friday's sudden disappearance and reappearance made him know he wasn't dreaming. One minute he was talking on the phone with Duncan, and the next he was sitting in a rocking chair in a cage on the roof of a multi-story building. The air was crisp and he didn't have a coat, so he rubbed at his arms. Most of all, he knew to keep quiet.

* * *

**DOJO**

Richie and Amanda had filled Duncan in on their day and slowly, they all calmed down. Once again, when Richie called for Friday, she didn't come. Richie commented, "Jeez, she's been weird today. What happened? Did Methos do something to her?"

"I don't see how he could have," Duncan shook his head, knew there was something wrong. "Who's Diabol?"

Both Richie and Amanda shrugged, shook their head. Richie said, "She never mentioned him."

Duncan stared at Amanda, that was a close call. He thought she was dead and he wouldn't see her again, touch her. He had to hug her one more time, just because he could. "She told me before that I wouldn't understand, that Methos could."

"He **_did_** do something to her," Richie accused, getting riled up again. 

Duncan calmed him down, then said, "I'll see if he left town yet."

"Left town?" Amanda asked, "Why would Methos have to leave town? He told me he was settled here for a while."

"Because he did something to Friday, that's why," Richie yelled, "and he's running scared."

Amanda shook her head, "I don't even know who the villain is anymore."

Duncan said, "No one is... that we know of. If Friday won't talk, maybe Methos will."

Amanda laughed, "Good luck getting anything out of him!"

Duncan went into the office and tried Methos' apartment number again, as he rummaged through the desk for his cell number. Methos had the habit of switching them every other month and Duncan didn't even bother to remember them anymore. Methos answered the phone, sounding groggy, "This better be good."

Duncan had been ready to hang up if he got the answering machine again, then put the receiver back to his ear. "Adam?" Duncan knew not to call him Methos over the phone lines.

Methos rubbed his face and wondered what time it was. "Who else would I be?"

"Why didn't you answer the phone before?"

"Was that you who called? You didn't leave a message. I'm trying to get some shut eye, I have an early morning flight. What do you want?"

"Friday--."

"Not interested." Methos was about to hang up.

Duncan hurriedly said, "Someone has Joe!"

"Huh?"

"Get over here."

Methos leaned on his elbow, "What's that about Joe?"

"He's been kidnaped."

"By Friday?"

"No!"

After a slight pause, Methos firmly stated, "I'll be right over."

* * *

**ROOF**

Diabol sat on his throne eating a plate of truffles as Joe tried to stay warm and Friday sat in the corner of the cage. She noticed Joe rubbing his arms and Diabol busy enjoying his meal. She waved her hand and instantly, Joe was wearing a fur coat. He closed it around himself and smiled at her, "Thanks."

She nodded and kept an eye on Diabol. A scroll was at his feet. He had been scribbling on it for a couple of hours and it was sitting there like a prize. It would be nice to know what his plans were, but he wouldn't lay it all out for her. He just wanted her to do something he could get upset about. She did make out the name Duncan MacLeod scrawled in his handwriting, but decided not to take the bait. She was surprised he didn't kick it closer to her with his slippered foot, so she couldn't resist reading it. 

Instead, she moved closer to Joe and asked, "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," Joe said. "Tired, confused, but I'm okay. How about you? You don't look so good."

"I have been better," she weakly admitted.

"What's going on?"

"He is planning the destruction of immortals," Friday quietly said, although she knew he could hear, even if she used mental telepathy. "Do not say anything, or even think anything. Diabol can hear and will use everything to his advantage."

"Clear my mind, huh? Should I think of the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man?" Joe started laughing at the craziness of the situation, but saw the fiery eyes of Diabol staring at him. Joe cleared his throat and his mind.

* * *

**DOJO**

Amanda and Duncan paced and waited. Friday's last visit only confused them more, and figured Joe could be held anywhere in the world, if this Diabol was a genie like Friday. Amanda said, "She brought us all over the world, in one afternoon, he could be anywhere."

Richie tried one more time and called in vain for Friday when Methos stalked in. "What's this about Joe? He's not at his apartment."

"Great job, Sherlock," Duncan said. "You wasted time going by his place when I told you over the phone that he's been kidnaped?"

"I thought they might have left a clue when they took him." He looked at the others sitting around. "What have **_you_** been doing, Watson?"

"Worrying," Duncan had to admit that it was the only thing they'd accomplished. "We don't even know who took him."

"Who told you he had been taken?"

"Friday."

"Now there's a reliable source," Methos smirked. "She's the trickster, in case you haven't guessed by now. Are you sure Joe's not just on the road with his band, and she just wants to keep you on your toes, or spite you for not getting in the club last night?"

"It was you who barred her from the club, not us," Duncan shook his head, "I talked to Joe tonight and he was going to go to bed. He was taken, Methos, and we have to find him."

"Well, what do you know so far?"

"Friday appeared to say it wasn't her fault--."

"Right," Methos grumbled.

"No," Duncan argued. "I don't think it was. She was scared. Someone named Diabol has Joe, and told us we couldn't know what that meant, but you might." Duncan thought more about what they had to go on, and added, "And something about a magic hotel."

Amanda snapped her fingers and said, "Oh! I thought she was talking about **_her_** magic. A magical hotel! You think she means those weirdos over at the Ritz? There's a magic convention going on. At lunch with Han this afternoon, the people at the next table kept making their food disappear."

Methos smiled, "By putting it in their mouth, chewing, and swallowing?" Then he looked back at Duncan. "Why would I know about Diabol? Unless she means Diabolic, in which case, I don't want to get into it. There hasn't been a ransom note, or a call with instructions from the kidnapers or anything?"

"No," Duncan said. Then all three immortals stared at the oldest one and asked, "How did you know her before?"

Since Friday was their only link to Joe's whereabouts, he remembered back to when he was a foot soldier for the last Pharaoh of Egypt, Cleopatra. Walking through the marketplace, he heard shouts. Perfect, he groaned to himself. Shouts were a great way to lose crowd control. A young woman, who he found out was named Laminae, one day to be known as Friday, was caught stealing a plain, wooden box from a vendor's table. The vendor wanted her hand cut off right there and then to teach her a lesson, and the man wanted Methos to do it. 

Methos just shook his head and clamped onto her arm so she couldn't flee. "She'll pay for her deed," Methos assured the man with all the authority he held.

"I need that box!" Laminae screamed as Methos lead her away. The vendor grabbed the box and protectively brought it through the crowd back to his stand. 

Methos pulled Laminae through the streets as she tried to jerk her arm away. "I need what is **_in_** the box," she said. That wasn't getting her anywhere, so she looked at the handsome guard and softened, plead with him, making sure her eyes were as big and innocent as possible. "Please, help me get it back."

"I am not the one to be trying any tricks on," he laughed, motioned to his uniform, steered her threw the chanting crowd. She wasn't a cooperative captive, so he asked, "Do you own that box?"

"No," she had to admit.

"Then you don't own what it contains."

"But it **_is_** mine," she defiantly stood her ground. "I know you can not possibly understand, but my teacher is in there." She became more frantic as she rattled off, "I need him! He just trapped him in the box so I can not get him and learn more and become more powerful. He is playing tricks with me and he is going to kill me!"

"Who?"

"Dia--," Laminae started to say, but was grabbed by other soldiers who pulled her toward the jail.

Methos let them take her away, knowing she would just be put into a cell until they decided what to do with her. Words of a 'teacher' gave him pause. She wasn't immortal, she had no buzz, not even a pre-immortal hum. In a box?? 

He walked back to the vendor's stand and asked the man which box she tried to steal. The vendor held up the simple wood, banged up box, which Methos held and scrutinized. It was locked. "Where is the key?"

The vendor shook his head, "I lost it long ago."

He shook the box, put it to his ear, and couldn't phantom that anything was inside it. "Then what use is this box to anyone? You don't have a hope to sell it." Methos tossed it back on the table and walked away wondering just how far gone in the head that woman was. Or, she could be a watcher and knew about immortals. But to say a teacher was stuck in a box... that was a little more than odd.

It was later that night that Laminae was to be executed for her attempted robbery. Usually things were handled quietly, in the privacy of the jail, but the soldiers decided there had been too much thievery going on and a beautiful woman's execution in front of the citizens they needed to control would be a symbol that such behavior would no longer be tolerated from anyone. When the Pharaoh herself was told of their plans, she decided to attend.

Methos knew it was all quite overboard, since the object of the crime was a piece of junk. There were more fitting criminals that deserved such a display, such symbolism to the masses. The woman's words were strange. She admitted the attempted theft, didn't apologize for it, like they usually tried to do when caught. All she did was come up with a crazy excuse. 

* * *

**LOFT**

They had gone upstairs to formulate a plan as Methos brought himself back to the present and mused, "You know, she was ready to say someone's name, just as she was taken away. It could have been 'Diabol'. "

"So, Joe is a pawn in a game she's been playing for 2000 years?" Duncan spewed. He hated when people were used for another's gain. 

Richie stated clearly, "Friday isn't using anyone as a pawn. I trust her." He sat by the chessboard and thought, "Pawn..." He looked at the chess pieces and saw that the white queen looked a little different from the black one, in fact, a lot different. It had a female form. He picked it up and felt it's warmth, it wiggled, "Friday!"

She was in the form of Laminae, long silky black hair, wearing a crisp white toga, cinched at the waist with a red sash. Methos gasped as she looked exactly as she did the day he met her. Did she know what he was thinking? The figure stated in a deep voice while Richie held her in his hand, "You have no hope of seeing Joseph Dawson alive again." She moved her head to see the rest of them. She laughed, a deep, hearty laugh, "Amanda, you **_will_** be dead in no time. That was just a practice round." She looked at Richie, leaning forward to take a good look at him, "You... you, I am going to savor killing, because she **_likes_** you so."

Her grotesque sneer made Richie toss her back on the chessboard, and jump back. Laminae's figure turned into a miniature Joe, standing on his own, without the use of his cane. He said, "Your immortality will be your downfall. Prepare for the end!"

Flames flew out of Joe's three inch form. He disappeared as the chessboard caught fire. Duncan put it out with a wet towel. "That wasn't Friday," Richie said.

"Quick, Rich," Methos spouted, pissed that Joe was brought into this, and that maybe even their thoughts weren't their own anymore.

* * *

**ROOF**

As the sun slowly appeared on the horizon, Diabol was in a trance on the throne. Whenever he transmigrated into another living, person, his normal body had to fall into a sleep state. Friday was too busy trying to get a plan formulated to free Joe to notice what he was doing. There was one thing she was sure of, she couldn't leave Joe alone with Diabol. Friday couldn't beat Diabol alone, so the three immortals had to help her. If something happened and they died, they would revive. She just had to protect their heads, their necks. 

While Diabol was still in his trance, Friday rubbed her hand against the golden brace around her neck and thought of a great idea. She could put neck braces on all of them for protection! Then quickly vetoed it, her magic was Diabol's and he could squeeze them to death, snapping their necks. Oh! She had to clear her head in case Diabol heard and got any ideas. She looked at the concrete and made a line with her finger. Because she was focused on Richie, the invisible line she drew sparkled from magic. Yes, that would work.

* * *

**LOFT**

It was early morning and none of them had slept. There hadn't been a phone call for ransom, Friday hadn't returned, they were all tired from being up all night, and were at a loss as to where to even begin to search for Joe. After vetoing sticking a pin in the map, Amanda said, "We've got to get the watchers involved."

"No way," Methos said, not wanting anything to do with them since leaving the organization. 

Duncan thought about it, "This Diabol wants to wipe out Immortals, and Joe is a **_retired_** watcher, but a watcher nonetheless. They'd probably help us."

Amanda asked, "What about Amy?"

"Leave her out of it," Methos said. "And no watchers. We'll take care of this... prima donna, ourselves."

Richie paced and looked at the stone wall. Letters appeared on it. R - I - ... "Hey!"

He ran to it as letters appeared, expecting his name to be written out. But the next letter was T, not C. They all watched as the letters were drawn by an invisible hand. Her note read: RITZ JOE IS FINE SO FAR HELP ME DEFEA

They waited for more letters, but none came. Amanda said, "Yep, the Ritz Carlton. That's where I had lunch."

"That's where Cassandra's staying, too," Methos darkly said, wondering if Cassandra had anything to do with it. They all looked at him, he shrugged. "So I followed her for a while."

Amanda looked at Duncan, "Cassandra's in town?"

Duncan pointed at Methos, "He told me. I haven't seen her."

She looked at Methos, "You and Cassandra are pals now?"

"No," Methos stated positively.

Richie interrupted before Methos could go off on a harangue like it looked he would, "Guys? Joe? Friday? Ritz Carlton? It's our only lead. Let's go."

Methos blocked their way to the elevator. "It's a trap. It's got to be. We have to think this through."

* * *

**ROOF**

Diabol yanked Friday off the floor and waved his hand. The letters she traced became visible to him. "You want some help because you still have delusions you can defeat me," he chastised her. He laughed. "Bring them on!"

He leaned down and grabbed Friday around the neck and pulled her closer. He kissed her on the mouth and then said, "Thank you, my lovely. You can not even comprehend how much you have helped me. I was going to go to them with Mr. Dawson, but now because of you, they are going to come to me. On my turf."

* * *

**RITZ CARLTON**

When the immortals arrived, the Bartolomeo Bosco Appreciation Society Convention was in full swing. They walked through the busy lobby as a man in a black cape appeared in front of Methos, "Pick a card."

Methos looked at the cards inches from his nose, and pushed the man away. "No, thank you."

The magician moved to Amanda, "Pick a card," he demanded. "It's an astounding trick."

Amanda told him, "Why don't you make yourself disappear?"

They could see through open doors to meeting rooms while in a hallway off the lobby where each held a magician in the midst of an illusion. Diabol manifested himself as a security camera in the upper corner of the hallway, focusing the lens of the immortals. He smiled to see that they all came, just like trained pigs. On the roof, Friday and Joe were able on a monitor that appeared that their friends had come. Each had very different reactions. Friday was glad she'd have help and they got her note. Joe didn't want them to get killed because they came to rescue him. Damn! He hated to have to be rescued.

Back in the hallway, Diabol, as camera captured Amanda saying, "I'm sure Diabol is somewhere near Joe and Friday."

Richie said, "He'd have them tied up somewhere."

Duncan asked, "Friday wouldn't get free?"

Richie shrugged, out of opinions, "I'm at a loss."

Duncan suggested, "When we find Joe, we'll find Diabol and Friday. Let's spread out."

"This is a huge hotel, Mac," Amanda said. "It's not like we can zero in on an immortal sensation or anything." Then she remembered, "Oh! Han is registered here. He'll help us look for them."

Duncan added, "And Cassandra." He asked Methos, "You don't happen to know which room she's in?"

Methos only stared at him. Of course he didn't know! He didn't think he'd be seeing her again. He was a little trepidatious that Duncan suggested on the way over that she could help them. Amanda wasn't thrilled with having Duncan's ex-lover involved, either.

Richie said, "Let's just take floors, how many are in this place?"

"At least twenty."

"I'll take the basement and first three. Mac, take the next, you guys, the next..."

They spread out after finding out which rooms Cassandra and Han were in. Duncan took Cassandra's area, Amanda took Han's and that left Methos with the top floors. Richie went back to all the meeting rooms to see if any of the 'magicians' were in fact the Jinn they were looking for. He watched everyone to pick out anything out of the ordinary, which was difficult considering the careers of the conventioneers.

~~~~~

Methos got off the elevator and looked at the listing of what was on the floor. Along with guest rooms, there was an expensive restaurant, but figured Diabol wouldn't treat Joe to a nice meal. He wondered if Joe had even been fed, hurt, dead. He formulated a plan on how to rip that Diabol, whoever he was, limb from limb, even though he had to admit, it would be a bit tricky to do anything to a Jinn. The visions of his undoing in Methos' head was pleasant, though. It was better than visualizing themselves being drawn and quartered.

There were a couple of open doors to rooms as maids went in and out and Methos looked in them, not expecting to see the object of his search as Diabol certainly wouldn't put out a 'Clean Room' sign if he had a hostage in there, but as a study of human nature. The way the women went about the drudgery of their work, what kind of mess people left for others to clean, what kind of clothes were hung on the clothes bar by the doors, it was all interesting to catalog in his head. When he neared the restaurant, he felt the tightening as a buzz invaded his space. He slid his hand into his coat to grip his Ivanhoe's hilt and looked both ways down the corridor. Just then, the door to the restaurant opened and Cassandra slowly moved through. She was just as cautious about the buzz as Methos.

When they spotted each other, she let the door handle go and the door quietly shut. She curiously looked him over, not knowing what in the world to say. Methos finally spoke, "Hi."

Cassandra just switched her stance and nodded. They felt another buzz and saw Duncan step off the elevator. Duncan saw the both of them and waited for fireworks. None came, they weren't even looking at each other. Duncan walked to Cassandra, giving her a hug. "You weren't in your room, so I took a chance you were up here having breakfast."

"It's good to see you, Duncan," she smiled, then looked at Methos, "I see you two are still friends."

Duncan said, "Joe's in trouble and we need all the help we can get."

"What happened?"

"Someone named Diabol kidnaped him, and we're taking a chance that he's here."

"Here? Why?"

"This Diabol wants to..." he stopped talking when an older couple walked passed them to the restaurant. He looked back to see if Methos would join them, and true to form, the old man had disappeared. Duncan directed Cassandra to a quiet corner and explained it all to her.

Cassandra said, "I can help. I have power you don't have."

Duncan smiled, "This enemy is a Jinn. He's not going to bend because you talk in his ear. You have to be careful and just can't rely on your voice. But, we need all the help we can get. You have your sword?" She wasn't wearing a coat, and wore a tight dress.

"It's in my room."

"Let's go get it."

~~~~~

Amanda knocked on Han's door and was glad he was in. She had to admit to him that she lost the map, and he was such a nice guy, he wasn't mad. In fact, he expected it, "It's not like it was your fault," he said after hearing about the car accident. "And I know you, Amanda. I have another copy in a safe deposit box."

"Oh, thank God," she smiled at him. He stepped back and told her to come into his room. He brushed back the few hairs left on his head and pushed up his glasses as he and Amanda went to the chairs in the sitting area for a private conversation. After she explained everything they were dealing with, and that Joe was a dear friend of theirs, Han said he would certainly help all he could, but no, he hadn't seen anything unusual going on. "Well," he shrugged. "No more unusual than the magicians walking around wanting to do tricks for anyone who'll stand still long enough."

Just then, Diabol appeared in front of them in Han's room. "Amanda," he said in his deep voice. "You and your friends are all roaming around like chickens with their head cut off. You have no plan of attack. You have no destination in mind. Let me help you." He cupped his hands around his mouth at announce, "The roof. It is all happening on the roof." He smiled, "I do not have all day."

Diabol looked at Han, who meekly sat in his chair, awestruck. Diabol asked, "Who is your little friend, Amanda?" He raised his eyebrow and asked with amused interest, "Another immortal?"

Han cleared his throat and said, "Yes. I am," still overcome that Amanda's talk of Jinn was really true. There was no way that man could have snuck into his room without them noticing.

Diabol smiled and raised his hand, a metal disc flew out of his hand like a boomerang, and slit Han's throat. Amanda bolted out of her chair and rushed to Diabol in attack. He laughed as he disappeared, verbalizing his glee, "It is going to be so easy!"

Diabol disappeared as Amanda fell when Han's quickening overcame her. The mirrors broke, the windows shattered in the small room. Streaks of lightening burned the walls. All the power went out in the hotel, leaving everyone in complete darkness, until the generators kicked in. Amanda fell to the floor trying to get her breath from the unexpected quickening and crying for her dear life-long friend's soul. 

* * *

**LOBBY**

A still dazed Amanda stepped off the elevator and looked around for anyone she knew. The lobby was abuzz by the power outage and one magician was screaming at the front desk about his trick being ruined because of it. Amanda wasn't going anywhere near the roof until she found them all. Strength in numbers was the only way they could defeat him. Richie spotted her as he came out of the bar with no leads. 

He said as he walked toward her, "A guy was trying to levitate a woman when the power went out. She's all right, though. She only fell a couple of feet."

Amanda, still dazed and confused, clothes in disarray, hugged him as soon as he reached her. Richie asked, "What happened? You look like you went through a wringer."

Amanda seethed in a quiet voice, "That bastard killed Han, right in front of me! He appeared in Han's room as we were talking and... I couldn't do anything about it. That bastard," she laid her head on Richie's shoulder and cried once more.

"God," Richie moaned, holding her. "That's why the power went out? You got a quickening?" She nodded against his shoulder. "What did Diabol look like?"

"He's an ugly little thing. Chubby. Shorter than me. Dark hair. He killed Han... with a... thing... that came out of his... thing," she cried waving her hand in the air.

"I'm sorry, Amanda." He waited for her to collect herself. "I was just in the basement, and Joe's not down there."

"Diabol told me to go to the roof."

He asked, "Would he be telling you the truth?"

"Why wouldn't he? He wants to kill us, he might as well lead us to where he wants to do it." She pulled away from Richie and straightened her clothes. She felt like she was going to throw up, but they had work to do. "Let's find Mac and Methos and get him!"

Richie held her back from charging back to the elevator, "Methos said it was a trap, he's right. We can't just go up there without a plan." They moved to a hallway leading to rooms and leaned against the wall while Amanda composed herself. 

Richie brushed his hand against her neck and said, "I'm so sorry, Amanda. Were you and Han good friends?"

"I've known him almost my entire life." Amanda was ready to get it over with, "Let's find the others."

"Then what?"

"We'll take out our swords and throw them in Diabol's direction," she tossed off. "Maybe one of them will hit the mark. Friday can keep him still, if she isn't in it with him."

"She's **_not_**," Richie said. "She couldn't be." He wondered what kind of shape Friday was in. How Joe was. Who that maniac was and why he zeroed in on them. He had the thought to call for her once again, but figured she wouldn't appear anyway. She couldn't be plotting with Diabol and help kill Amanda's friend, but this whole situation was so perplexing, he didn't know what to believe. He nodded, "Let's find the others."

~~~~~

The first one they found was Methos when they felt a buzz on their way up in the elevator. Richie pushed the button for the next floor and they ran down the stairs. Methos was lying in wait against the wall with his hand tightly gripped on his hilt inside his coat, hoping it was friend, but ready if it was foe. 

They found Duncan and Cassandra as they were coming out of her room. Before Amanda could jump to any conclusions, Duncan told her, "She had to get her sword."

"You know to use it, right," Amanda asked Cassandra.

"Yes. I'm well trained, Amanda. It's nice to see again," Cassandra was polite.

"Likewise."

Duncan put his hand on Amanda's shoulder and asked, "Are you all right?"

"No, Mac," she spouted out. "I'm not!"

Methos actually thought he felt more comfortable around Cassandra at the moment than Duncan did and pushed the up button to the top floor. Then Amanda told them what happened in Han's room. Cassandra said, "I thought we heard something, and the power went out."

Duncan hugged Amanda, "I'm sorry, honey. I heard a lot about Han. I wish I could have met him." 

"Don't say 'I wish' ever again," Methos said. But no one appreciated his interrupting Amanda's sorrow. "We have to get our heads together if we're going to conquer this thing."

Richie agreed, "Let's go make him pay."

~~~~~

They gathered on the steps before the door leading to the roof to finalize their plan of watching each other's necks and devise back up contingencies for anything they could think of that could possibly happen once they went through that door. Methos made sure he didn't have to look after Cassandra's neck, or count on her to protect his.

Deal was, Diabol knew they were there, from Friday reacting to Richie's voice so near. He made sure Joe was secure in the cage and pulled Friday out. The door between him and the immortals flipped open with a wave of Diabol's hand and instantly, all their swords disappeared from their coats. They laid neatly on a table that one could perceive as an altar. Candles and jars of oil aflame were placed alongside the swords.

"Come in, come in," Diabol welcomed them in a pleasant voice. The immortals stepped back, except Richie, who was concerned about Friday standing along side of Diabol. It was eery for them as she was in her Laminae form, not the plump, happy go lucky jinniyah they all knew.

Richie stepped through the door, "Are you all right, Friday?"

"Of course she is all right, my young friend," Diabol pleasantly said. 

Richie sneered, "I'm not your friend!"

"All of you," Diabol ignored him. "Come in." Duncan rushed to the cage. Joe acknowledged with an easy shrug and nod of his head that he had been treated well, but was more than ready to go home. Since Amanda, Methos and Cassandra lingered on the stairs, Diabol raised his hand, clenched his fist, and pulled it toward his chest, making them walk out onto the roof against their will. 

The door slammed behind them and Methos reached back to test the lock. Secure, just as he suspected. Duncan pulled Richie behind him by the cage and the others soon joined them. They had to stick together and keep an eye on everything that could be used as a weapon.

Duncan said to the Jinn, "Diabol, I presume?"

"Of course, but do not call me by name. It is not respectful. Let me guess who my guests are," he sauntered closer to them, making them press themselves against the cage. "Duncan MacLeod, or Mac, as people are apt to call you... the leader." He smiled at Amanda, "Ah, yes, Miss Amanda. I have had fun with you. Richie Ryan, of course."

He focused on Methos, and smiled because he had read all about the man. "You **_have_** to be Methos. There was not a picture on the database, but my... have you been a bad boy. If circumstances were different, we might have made a great team."

Methos stared down the short Jinn, then had to glance at Joe, who promised him that when he retired, there wasn't anything in the database about Methos that was even remotely true. Joe returned the old guy's stare, and shrugged. The watchers didn't know Methos was Adam Pierson, that was what was most important, right?

Diabol moved on to Cassandra, and had no idea what she was doing there, "I do not know you."

"That's alright," Cassandra replied. "We don't need to be introduced."

Methos smiled, having always liked her. She hadn't acknowledged Diabol's mention of Methos' past, and certainly didn't attack him. Some day, not then, but some day, he hoped they could make a amends in some way. He knew it would be an impossible endeavor, but to hope made life worth living.

"You are right," Diabol agreed with Cassandra. "I do not need to know the name of who I am soon to destroy. Since you had a sword, and are in the company of the others, I can only assume that you too are immortal."

Amanda tightened, fully expecting Diabol to take her out, right there and then, just as he did to Han and turned away as there was nothing they could do to stop him. Duncan, who was to look after Cassandra's neck stepped between her and Diabol, but Cassandra moved him aside and calmly stated to the odd little man, "You don't need to harm anyone here."

"Why not?"

"Immortals aren't your enemy," she added, as Diabol studied her mouth and every word she spoke. Duncan took her arm wondering if relying on her voice was wise. He saw Methos slowly make his way from behind Amanda and Cassandra and out of Diabol's line of vision. Cassandra chanted, "There is no reason why immortal and Jinn can't live together in peace. We have for thousands of years. You have nothing to fear from us, and we have nothing to fear from you."

Diabol laughed. "You are one of those! My mind can not be swayed, madam, but it was delightful that you tried."

Richie couldn't understand why Friday wasn't even looking at him, or in her 'favored form' as she described her normal, plain look. She still had the guise of the woman she appeared as on the chessboard in the loft. He looked at Diabol and realized it was his wish that she appeared as she did. Friday wasn't in a trance, or the actual statue he first thought, as her legs moved and she blinked her eyes. He started toward her again. Duncan pulled him back to his side as Diabol smiled at the immortal's protection of the young one. Interesting. That could be used to his advantage. Diabol made Friday return to his side and said to Duncan, "I can do that also, Mr. MacLeod. We both have our students, don't we?"

Methos was confused. He had been under the impression that Diabol did something to Friday's teacher, wasn't her actual teacher. Or he was using the term in a derogatory manner, in which case, Methos was even more repulsed by him. Diabol slid his finger under the brace on Friday's neck and paced backward, until he was standing atop a life-sized chessboard he had prepared. "Mr. MacLeod loves chess, and so do I," he told them, then motioned for them to come closer. "I do not want to kill you all outright. What is the fun in that? Survive me, and you live." He didn't tell them that it wasn't a possibility, but let them keep their hopes up. "This is a game of life and death. You will all play against me. I take your piece, you die. I must warn you..." he gleefully smiled. "I am very good at games."

Methos looked over at Joe, and that there wasn't any means of entry into that cage. Duncan told Diabol, "We're not going to play games. We came to collect our friends and leave. If you refuse to let that happen, then we'll fight, but only if it's fair."

Diabol extended his finger, outfitted with silver fingernails which made Amanda tense up, and counted heads. "One, two, three, four, five... against me, and Laminae. And you are worried it will not be a fair fight. Thank you for your respect, Mr. MacLeod." Diabol paced around them and glared at Methos, who was testing the solidness of the bars that surrounded Joe. Methos stood still. 

"It really is too bad," Diabol shook his head. "For you. I have read so much about you all on Watcher Database." They all looked to Friday for an explanation of how he could have possibly had known about the watchers, **_and_** that they had a database. Joe would never have revealed it. "For all you have been in your lives, all you come down to... are pawns on the board."

Instantly, the immortals were lined up on the board along with life sized chess pieces behind them, pawns pieces filling up the rest of their front row. Try as they might, they couldn't move off their square. Diabol tisked, "You can not move until it is your turn."

On the other side of the board, life sized black pieces filled up the spaces, only Diabol's pieces were alive. The bishops were sorcerers, the knights were large distinguished stallions, just ready to trample them the rooks had men with sniper rifles. Methos shook his head at the situation. He'd been alive for more years than the other immortals put together, and he was a pawn. He verbalized a thought, "At least make me the king." Suddenly he was the White King.

"Release Joe," Cassandra murmured in a soothing voice. "Let us have our swords..." she whispered to Diabol as he neared her, listening intently. When his back was turned away from Duncan, he used the opportunity to chop at the back of Diabol's neck. Diabol caught his hand and turned to glare at him. Fire emitted from his eyes, making Duncan duck in time from being toasted. 

"You know how to play the game, Mr. MacLeod," Diabol calmly said. "You be the leader and make the moves for your team."

"We are your friends... Diabol," Cassandra continued. He dropped Duncan's arm and moved closer to her, drawn in to what she said. Then he looked in her eyes, and smiled. He put his hand upon Cassandra's mouth and wiped her lips away. 

"I warned you that your tricks do not work on me. You will get your chance when it is your move." Diabol looked at the other immortals, "Does anyone else want to hold off the game with anymore tricks, or shall we just begin?"

Friday moved through Diabol's pieces, petted one of the stallions, attracting Richie's attention. He wondered why she hadn't done a thing to help them. He knew she couldn't be Diabol's partner, but her apathy was beginning to grate on him. Friday knew of his agitation and put her finger to her lips for him to remain quiet. She wanted them all to just go with the flow until she could think of something without Diabol making the connections as soon as she did. She had to be quicker than him. She had to watch for any opportunity. To see the immortals lined up as if in front of a firing squad scared her to death, but there was nothing she could do at the moment. She continued rubbing her hand along the stallion's snout, hoping to make some sort of peaceful alliance with the beast to not harm his opponents.

Diabol screamed, "Laminae!" He used his magic to clasp the brace and pull her across the chessboard to him. "That is **_my_** horse, and you can not warp his temperament to serve you." Each of the immortals tried again to move out of their squares, but couldn't. Their swords were innocently laying on that altar, so close, and yet so far away.

It was time to begin. Diabol hooked onto Friday's brace and made her the queen on his black side of the board. He toyed with them, "Remember, it is me you are trying to take, not my Laminae."

He motioned for Duncan to make his move. He stood as a pawn two spaces to the left of Methos, the white king, and just next to Cassandra. There were only two options he as pawn could make, so he moved his foot forward, letting it hover over the line between spaces, ready for anything to happen. When nothing did, only Diabol waiting for him to finish, Duncan moved forward two spaces.

Diabol laughed at his decision. He shook his head, "Are you in that space because you want to be in front of your comrades? Protect them? Or are you making sure you are as close to my pieces as possible? Are you going to charge, Mr. MacLeod?"

Duncan only glared at him. It was different playing the game from that angle, on the board, and only then realized that he had the habit of using his pawns as sacrifices for his other pieces. He'd never thought of them as being important, as life and death. Diabol motioned to the stallion on his right to move forward, and to the left. "Are you going to play the entire game yourself, Mr. MacLeod? And die, so needlessly soon, in front of your friends?" Duncan actually was the one he wanted to start with, then the legendary Methos, who Diabol had read all about in the database. Then the women, didn't matter which, and save precious little Richie Ryan for last.

Duncan had to move out of that square, or he would be taken by the stallion, who reared up and sounded like he hadn't eaten in years. He looked back at Methos for another opinion, who chuckled to himself. He would have let the pawn be taken, and use the current move to position the bishop on the edge, to take the knight the turn after he took the pawn. Since Duncan was that sacrificial pawn, he nodded for Duncan to take a step forward. He did. 

Diabol had to move the stallion, as Duncan could take it. But then again, if Duncan took the stallion, Diabol had two pawns fully capable of taking him diagonally. That would be too soon to kill is true target. Instead, he moved the pawn in front of the bishop on Friday's left side one space. Friday shivered. That move could only mean Diabol made an opening for her to move diagonally and 'take' them as Queen.

Duncan looked back at the others. Cassandra was placed diagonally to Methos' left, Richie was diagonally to his right. Amanda, to Richie's right, would allow Duncan to move out their queen as needed to defend against Friday, as they still couldn't tell which side she was on. He told Amanda, "Move forward one."

Amanda wasn't too thrilled to be in the game, but did as he suggested. 

Diabol smiled as he told Friday, "Laminae, move out to the edge."

Friday lowered her head and shook it. "I can not be a part of this."

Diabol laughed, "You are the reason I found them in the first place!" He paused to see how that tidbit played on the immortals. Just as he hoped, they all gaped at her. "If you hadn't filled me in on the concept of immortality, and told me their names and where they live, and all about Watcher Database, I would still be in the dark about it."

"That is not true," she said, looking right at Richie, not wanting to make eye contact with the rest of them.

"How in the world could I have found out about Joe Dawson's existence if you were not so angry about being left out of going to see him perform at the club?" Diabol looked at the immortals to see how that sunk in. If there wasn't barriers making it impossible for them to leave their squares unless they were making a move, Duncan, Richie, and Methos would all be on their way to them. Diabol only wondered if they would have attacked himself, or Friday. They seemed to believe it.

Friday shook her head that it wasn't true. Before she could state her case, Amanda yelled out, "So it wasn't poor Miss I Didn't Have Anything To Do With the Car Accident! You tried to kill me!"

"I did **_not_**! He is lying!" Friday finally looked at Amanda and said, "He surprised me as I stood outside the Quest. He kidnaped me." She put her hand to the brace. "He put--."

Suddenly, she was jerked over to the space on the edge diagonally to her left where he demanded her to go in the first place by Diabol's magic. Friday couldn't move, she couldn't speak. Richie looked at her and saw the creases of her neck as the gold necklace around her neck tightened. It couldn't be true that she was behind Diabol finding them. It just couldn't be true.

Joe immediately stood at the bars and yelled out, "It's not true! She's been--."

Diabol flicked a finger at him, stunning Joe for an instant, "I told you very clearly, Joseph Dawson, that if you disobeyed me, you were dead." Joe fell on his back and shut his eyes.

Duncan screamed out, "Leave him out of this!"

Diabol told him, "Joseph Dawson is only taking a nap. I have nothing against mortals."

Methos groaned, "So you do have **_some_** principles." He saw Joe turn his head, and didn't seem to be in pain.

Richie continued to focus on Friday, and it tickled Diabol. The young man's expression wasn't apparent. "Friday," he plead with his jinniyah. "Come on, do something!"

Just to drive them to the brink of wanting revenge on her, he spoke the absolute truth he and Friday had been keeping from them all. He said, "My wife can never betray me, Richie. She's been my pawn all along."

"No way!" Richie tried to get out of his square. "There's no way she's married to you!"

Friday knew she was in deep doodoo. She might have been able to convince them she didn't have anything to do with Diabol finding her, gaining information on them both on his own and through her, against her will, but she couldn't deny the one really big mistake she made when she was young. 'Til death do us part' was the only thing she could hope for, that is if she lived through the wrath of the immortals. Joe wasn't able to back her up. She fruitlessly said, "I didn't..."

Duncan yelled, "Marry that monster? Spy on us? Almost kill Amanda? Help him kidnap Joe? Stand there and let all this happen? Just what was it that you didn't do?!"

Friday's fragile heart was at the breaking point. She had a hand in all those things, even though they were all beyond her control. She didn't know how to explain it, she only was able to say, "He is more powerful than I," as tears fell down her cheeks.

Diabol stated the obvious, "Now... I suggest Miss Amanda move forward quickly, for she is in Laminae's line. And if Miss Amanda does move out of her way... well then, my wife has a clear shot to her little master, Richard Ryan." Diabol smiled, "I am going to enjoy his death."

Methos saw that right after Richie in Friday's line, was him. Friday in Richie's spot, if she does indeed take his head, would be easy pickings for his turn to come. He would savor killing her, just as practice for when they could possibly get the better of Diabol. That was, if she was the turncoat. Even Methos had a tough time believing that. 

It was Duncan's turn. Diabol sweetly inquired, "What is your next move, Mr. MacLeod?"

Duncan glared at him, "I thought it was disrespect to call people by name?"

"It is," Diabol agreed. "Make a move, Mr. MacLeod."

Amanda reported, "I'm not budging. She's going to have to take me, or not. It's up to her." Friday slowly shook her head that it wouldn't be a possibility, but Amanda had a tough time digesting it. That close call in the car accident made her extremely suspicious.

Duncan scanned the set up of their places. Methos said, "Move the second pawn forward two spaces."

They all saw that it would land in the diagonal space between Amanda and Friday. In Methos' thinking, if Friday took the insignificant pawn, Amanda could take her on the next move. That would be interesting to see, as Amanda had been chomping at the bit to attack her ever since the accident.

Richie saw it too, "No. I'll move."

Methos groaned, "What purpose would that serve?"

"I want in this game, too."

"Richie," Duncan warned, "stay where you are. I'll move the second pawn from the right forward two spaces."

The pawn instantly moved forward to the space diagonally between Amanda and Friday. Diabol studied the board. It would be interesting to get right to Richie Ryan, as he was the one that Laminae had to most affection for. He told his knight, that could have taken Duncan, to go forward and to the left. On it's next move, he would take Richie to the left, or Cassandra to the right. Decisions, decisions. He'd deal with that on his next move, or maybe didn't have to if Duncan MacLeod didn't spot the obvious.

Methos was fine with the knight's move, as it would be in the adjacent space that he could take, or leave alone as it couldn't take him, the king. He wondered to himself why the others didn't speak up to be something more powerful than pawns. 

Richie saw the stallion move into place. Even though he didn't know a lot about chess, he knew by the stallion's movements, he was to be taken by it on the next move. He was a pawn, damn! Then he realized he was a pawn, who could move one space forward. He did without clearing it with the others. As he looked up at the roaring stallion just diagonally from him, he smiled a cocky smile. He could be taken on the next move! Then Richie thought, how? He wasn't going to walk onto that stallion's square! 

Diabol flexed his fingers and smiled at the young pup's audacity, and could no longer hide his glee that no one had brought up the fact that his Queen also had another clear target. "Laminae," Diabol took pleasure in saying, "Take Mr. MacLeod."

Duncan looked across the board at her, on his line, with no pieces in between them. The immortals all gasped. Richie yelled, "You can't do that, Friday!"

"She will!" Diabol instantly moved her to Duncan's spot. He fell to the board, as she had taken him. The others tried to move from their squares, but couldn't. A sword, Duncan's katana, appeared in Friday's hand and Diabol made her lift it into the air. 

Friday screamed, "I will not!"

"You will! Now!" Diabol walked to her. "Laminae, this is the game. You must do exactly what I say."

Friday looked down at Duncan, who couldn't stand up, or move his hands. He was adhered to the chessboard, Diabol made it so. Duncan looked up at her, and her face gave away nothing. Until she dropped the sword and said, "I will not harm any of them. I can not! Do with me what you need to do."

She waited for the brace to tighten, but it didn't. Diabol stood on her square and whispered in her ear, "Yes-s-s-s-s, you will." A snake appeared in his hand and he moved it closer to her face. She coldly regarded it, then Diabol made it disappear and took a deep breath. "That's right. You do not care if you live or die."

"What?" Richie had to ask.

Friday knew Diabol wouldn't say it, but she would, "When he took me from outside the club," she glared at Methos, "because I couldn't get in. He used a snake against me to gather information. For the second time, I would have rather ended my life than continue it under his control. He found out about you all because of me, yes. He put this brace around my neck so he was privy to anything I saw or heard. I am sorry for that, and for not being able to stay away from you all. Beyond that, I told him nothing." She kicked the katana away and told Diabol, "I can not do anything against my master. You know that. These are his friends. I can not kill them, even if I wanted to."

Diabol grabbed the brace and pulled her toward to him. Friday spat in his face. Fire flashed out of his eyes, scorching her hair. Fire emerged from her wrists, charring his face. Diabol yelled, "You will kill them, if I have merge with you and do it! You will see them dead, by your hands!"

He pulled Friday closer to him, then into him. She fell into a trance and remained visible to the others inside his body. Diabol had united their magic into one form. He walked to pick up the katana, as Diabol really wanted to use Duncan MacLeod's own weapon against him, and stood before his squat, vulnerable body, and neck. Duncan tried to move as Diabol, with Friday inside him, moved back onto his square. 

"Watch closely, Laminae," Diabol proudly said. "While I take his head!"

Just as Diabol was theatrically raising the katana over Duncan's head, Richie had a thought. It had to work! Diabol had united their magic, Friday was a part of him, and he of her. Richie yelled, "For my last wish... I wish Friday to be mortal!"

Her sleeping form awoke with a jerk and Friday and Diabol both gasped at Richie, horrified. They both screamed from the pain that was like fire was going through them both. Diabol lost his grip on the katana's hilt and it fell with a clatter to the chessboard. Friday separated from Diabol and fell in a comatose state out of him as her body reconstructed itself into mortal form. Diabol howled with anger and shot fire bolts from his fingers to the pipsqueak who dared fool with him. Only sparks came out, vanishing harmlessly in the air. Diabol looked at his hands, at himself, at Friday in her Laminae form, her true form and whimpered like a lost puppy. 

Suddenly, the cage holding Joe disappeared, Joe woke up, the chessboard and pieces Diabol created through magic vanished, the brace around Friday's neck disintegrated, Cassandra's lips reappeared. Duncan crawled to his katana and stood as he gripped the hilt securely in his hand. Without needing to look at the target, he spun around, swinging in the monster's direction, cutting Diabol in half at the waist.

Diabol's eyes flared at Duncan MacLeod, who smiled and enjoyed declaring, "Checkmate, you son of a bitch."

The top half of Diabol slipped to the floor, then his bottom half fell on top of it. Amanda jumped up and cheered, ran to Duncan and kissed him.

Richie had rushed right to Friday and turned her over onto his lap. She was still out cold, but her body was going through light convulsions. He tapped her face. "Friday! Oh, God, I didn't kill her, did I?"

Duncan knelt down and felt for a pulse on her wrist. "It seems strong."

Friday came to with a jerk and stared up at her master. A burning sensation crept up her back. Pain. She was laying at an impossible angle, wrenching her back. She straightened and sat up, panting. She couldn't get enough air, but the brace was gone. All the new sensations of her body hit her at once. She felt so strange, lightheaded and her body pulled down at the same time. That must be what gravity did to a body. 

Methos rushed to Joe, helping him onto his legs and grabbed his cane. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," Joe muttered, getting his balance with the cane. "It's just my pride."

Amanda and Cassandra regarded each other, then smiled, and both breathed a sigh of relief when they saw Diabol's dead body. Methos and Cassandra regarded each other. He smiled and pointed to her face, "You look better with a mouth."

"Gee, thank you," she sneered, then softened. They continued to look at each other, not thinking of any words to say to each other. 

Finally, Methos raised his hand to offer a shake. "Truce?"

Cassandra looked at his hand, thought about the repercussions anything she said would have. She didn't take his hand, but nodded, "Maybe one day."

Methos put his hand in his pocket. "That's better than no."

"That's just a **_little_** bit better than no," Cassandra corrected him. 

"Friday," Richie asked as he put his arm around her. "Talk to me."

Friday took a lock of her hair in her hand and saw that it was long and silky. Her clothes were ones she wore centuries before. Her hands and fingers were long and thin. She was in the form that Diabol preferred, as Laminae. She looked up at the immortals and Joe standing around her, then at Richie, right next to her.

Richie couldn't get over what she looked like, but could still see Friday in her eyes. He solemnly said, "I'm sorry."

Friday asked, "What for?"

"I did the last thing you wanted, I made you human."

Friday started crying and hugged Richie, "You sacrificed your last wish. You lost two of your wishes. I can not offer you the fourth to negate the others."

"The only one I'd want back is the second one," Richie said, returning her hug. "What else could I wish for, but that we were all safe and he was dead?"

"It was a good wish," Friday agreed with him.

"But you're mortal now."

She pulled away and looked at her body again, her hands, her skin that no longer had the same elasticity they had before. "I see that." She put her hands to her head. "I **_feel_** that. My head hurts. This must be what is called a headache. What do you do for a headache?"

Amanda smiled, "You're asking us? We're immortal."

Joe said, "Take an aspirin, or pinch the top of your ears real hard as long as you can stand it."

Friday looked up at him, "But then my ears will hurt."

Joe shrugged and smiled, "At least you won't be worried about your headache."

Duncan asked him, "How did Diabol treat you?"

"Just fine, Mac," Joe said. "I had to sit in that chair," he pointed over to where the rocking chair and cage was.

They all took a deep breath and were all glad everything was over with. They could see the sun starting it's downward descent. Methos remembered, "I missed my plane."

Amanda mentioned, "There's always a plane taking off."

Methos cocked his head, "Maybe I'll stick around here for a while." He looked at Cassandra, who didn't want to slice him through with a sword, Diabol was dead, Friday couldn't do anything more to him. Things were suddenly just fine in Seacouver.

Friday had moved to Diabol's body and sat next to it. She folded one leg over the other and put her head down, hands palms up on her knees. They gave her a moment, as they thought she was praying for his soul or something, which was confusing for them. If one thing was to be believed that Diabol said, she was his wife, but he didn't deserve any sort of respect. Richie was going to stop her, but Duncan pulled him back. There had to be a reason for it.

Friday took a deep breath and lifted her head, opened her eyes, to see them all staring at her. She stood up, and wobbled. Richie instantly was at her side, to make sure she didn't fall down. "Thank you, Richie. That gravity is a bitch." She told them all, "When a Jinn dies, whoever is near will say a prayer to the Marid for them to be gentle and fair in their judgement of their life. Their decision will determine what the afterlife will be." 

Friday looked down at Diabol one last time and bitterly stated, "He has caused nothing but misery for other Jinn from day one. I do not know if they were able to hear me as I no longer have magic..." she paused as that was a new concept for her. "But I asked them to make sure he did nothing but toil and suffer until the end of the world." She looked at the faces of the others. "That was not too harsh, was it?"

"Not by me,"they said. "Not at all."

For the first time since she wasn't able to get into the Quest because of the banishment, Friday smiled with relief. They all welcomed her back into the fold, even Amanda gave her a hug and called her friend. She saw Methos and remembered, "The pen."

Methos squinted at her as he tried to figure out what she meant, then got it, "Ah, my present. What was it? A Bic Retractable? A Space Pen?"

Cassandra looked at Methos, he was getting gifts? Maybe he had changed. Or was a very good manipulator. "Neither," Friday said. "But it lost it. It's out there somewhere," she waved her hand at the sky. 

Amanda said, "It was a great pen, Methos."

Friday said, "It was a quill pen, actually, used by William Shakespeare."

Methos raised his eyes, that would be a nice artifact, indeed. But he had to throw in, "Let me guess, he was writing the Tempest when he knew you."

"Much Ado About Nothing," Friday corrected him. She took a deep breath and looked at her mortal body and fought off depression that her life was irrevocably changed. "I have no money. I have no place to live."

Before she could get all worked up, as Richie expected when she looked like that, he said, "We're in the same boat, but we have each other."

That surprised her, she asked, "Really? What about Candy?" She said the name oozing with jealousy.

Richie said, "She works for Methos."

Cassandra was surprised again. "In what capacity?"

Methos told her, "I'm only a silent partner."

"And she needs a raise," Duncan added.

"Is that all she is to you," Friday asked Richie, only focusing on Richie.

"As far as I can tell." Richie looked down into Friday's eyes and then hugged her. "You and I just need a place to stay. I'm not spending one more night on Methos' couch."

Cassandra once again looked at Methos, who shrugged. "So the kid doesn't like Louis XIV furniture."

Methos looked at Richie and Friday still hugging and tapped Richie on the shoulder, and held out his apartment keys. "It's up to you who sleeps on the couch, or if anyone does. I've been thinking of getting a new place anyway, and I'm sure there's a nice suite in this hotel I can stay in until then."

Richie was shocked, "Thanks, Methos."

"You got three months free rent on the apartment." He focused on Friday, even pointed his finger in her face, "Don't disparage my things anymore, don't play tricks on me, and..." he was at a loss of what the third thing was, but was on a roll. The first two were what were important. He said, "And get jobs to pay your own rent or I'm kicking you out."

"We should find jobs by then," Richie said. "Friday should be able to get a **_great_** job. She has lots of experience."

Methos muttered, "Yeah, as a pain in the ass."

Friday said, "There is one thing, Methos. You banished me."

"You're no longer Jinn, does that still go?"

She never thought of that before, "You may have a point there."

"See," Methos said, with an irritated smile, "You just can't help making things difficult. Don't annoy me and we'll be fine." He moved to the door, then turned to Joe, "Hey, you need a lift home?"

Joe nodded and walked to the door. "I was wondering when someone would ask. I need something to eat, too."

"You got it, buddy," Methos patted his back. "Anything you want."

Joe said to them, "Thanks guys, and Friday, thank you for everything."

"I am sorry you were brought into it, Mr. Dawson."

"It wasn't your fault." Joe turned to the door, then back again, with a smile, "Hey, Friday. If you need pointers on being mortal, just give me a call."

Friday laughed, then asked, "Can I call for any reason?"

"Yes, I'd like that. And my name's Joe. My father was Mr. Dawson."

Methos opened the door for Joe and looked at Friday, shook his head, "I really would have liked to have that pen." He shrugged, "Maybe some day..."

* * *

**EPILOGUE**

In the early morning, before the sun came up, Richie found himself once again on Methos' couch. He would have to take Duncan up on getting a new one in the morning. When they were dropped off at the apartment, they were both exhausted and Friday didn't need any persuasion to go ahead and take the bed. He had been hoping she would have offered to share it, but that was okay. For a while. She was asleep before her head hit the pillow. On a soft, fluffy pillow. Richie just covered her up and grimaced at the couch he would really like to cut in half with a chainsaw. 

He thought once again of how Friday looked in her mortal form, gorgeous. She told them all in T-Bird after leaving the hotel that it was how she originally looked when she first found out she was a jinniyah, and met and married Diabol. Over the years, she had taken other guises, mostly to hide from him. 

Duncan, Amanda, and certainly Richie were silent about her marriage, and all Friday offered was, "Everyone is entitled to one mistake in their youth, correct? I am free of him now." It felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. In only the metaphorical sense. Gravity was pulling her down since she turned mortal. Then announced she was really hungry. They swung by McDonald's because it looked like she was ready to start eating the seats.

As Richie laid on the couch and stared at the ceiling, he smiled at her appetite, and how she savored every bite of food. "I didn't know food could taste like this," she said between chewing and swallowing. He hoped Friday wouldn't eat herself back to the 200 pound woman he fell in love with... "Fell in love with," he said aloud. He smiled as he came the realization that she was much more than his friend, then cursed that damn bar across his back. 

A sniffle was heard from the bed, and he sat up to take a look. Another sniffle. Friday was lying on her side away from him. Richie figured she had to be devastated to be mortal and having a tough time coming to terms with it. The first day he met her, she said it was the worst thing that could happen to her and she forbad him from wishing it. He sat on the edge of the bed and tapped her shoulder. She curled into a fetal position when she felt his leg against her back. "Friday, I'm sorry."

"Why?" 

When he didn't answer, she turned her head to look at him. He saw the tears staining her cheeks. "You're mortal," he simply said.

"It was the only way to defeat Diabol, Richie," she said. "You made a good wish."

"Is that why you're crying?"

"Sure it is." Friday sat up and curled her knees under her chin, a bit embarrassed about the selfish reason she woke up and couldn't get back to sleep. "I have to deal with it, and I will. It is just... I do not know how to do anything. I can not cook. I was looking at my hair and I do not know how to clean it. I will not ever see my friends again, my Jinn friends. They do not know where I am. They all probably think I died. Which I will, in about 50 years of old age. I do not have any of my things, or my houses I live in. All I have is this scratchy cloth on my back."

Ritchie rubbed her arm, to let her know she wasn't in it alone. "You're alive, Friday," he offered as a way to think about the bright side.

"I know. It is silly, I know. We are all alive and Diabol is dead, that is wonderful." Friday paused and started to tear up once again. "The future is awfully scary all of a sudden."

"You sound a little like I did when I got out of that grave. All I really have now are the clothes from my first wish, and Mac gave me a sword. I don't know what friends I lost, so I can't mourn not having them, but we both have four solid friends we can count on. We have each other." Ritchie smiled, "We can learn how to cook together and I wouldn't mind washing your hair for you. I have a feeling you're a quick learner."

Friday ironically smiled at Richie, and shook her head in the sudden juxtaposition of their relationship. "You are young and have centuries ahead of you. I am old and I am going to die soon."

"You're not going to die soon," Richie lightly corrected her. "Take care of your body and don't get into any trouble and you could have a century to live yourself. They're making advances in life expectancy all the time."

"Who is?"

Ritchie shrugged, "Scientists. People who do that sort of thing." Friday laughed. Richie told her, "You can either feel sorry for yourself, or you can enjoy life, like you always have."

She nodded that he was absolutely right. She did start to feel better, knowing that she had people in her life, most importantly, Richie. Deciding to have that drink in that dingy bar in New York was a wonderful quirk of fate. She realized, "I am hungry."

Richie said, "Get a couple more hours of shut eye and we'll see what Methos has in the fridge. I just want to make sure you don't eat another three Big Macs, two orders of fries, a chocolate shake, topped off with a diet coke. You gotta pace yourself."

"I suppose," she acknowledged that she was stuffed after that meal. Only a few hours later, though, she was famished. Pace herself. That was what she would have to do. She laid back down on the bed and Richie got up to return to that damn couch. She watched him cringe before lying down on it, before offering, "Would you like to sleep here?"

"Yes," he said, immediately sliding between the sheets. "I thought you'd never ask."

Richie fluffed the pillow and laid back, completely comfortable. Friday took his hand in hers and they both looked up at the water stain on the ceiling. "Methos was awfully nice to let us have his place," Friday said. "I will have to do something nice for him."

He laughed and said, "Well, remind him that you never did turn him into a toad."

"That's true," she laughed along with him. "That is about all I can afford now."

Her change in attitude got to him, Richie squeezed her hand, "What happened to your exuberance for life? You're still alive, you have air flowing through your lungs. We're going to be okay."

She smiled, nodded, but didn't know if they would be. What skills did they have for good jobs? She'd never be able to afford to visit her favorite Jamaican beach again. Or stay at the Plaza. Or go on shopping sprees with Amanda. Or maybe she could, if circumstances, a good job, or a lottery win was in her future. Her mind was in a whirl, but she fell into a light sleep alongside Richie.

  
  


******CONTINUED** in Part Four

   [1]: mailto:EnyaJo@aol.com



	4. Cleopatra's Lover

**THE FRIDAY SERIES 4**

**CLEOPATRA'S LOVER**

By JoLayne**  
**[EnyaJo@aol.com][1]

* * *

**RATING**: G

**CHARACTERS**: M, DM, A, RR, OFC Friday, OCs Diabol, Wen, Malik, HC Cleopatra

**SUMMARY**: Friday tells them about her past with Methos.

* * *

**SEACOUVER 1998**

Friday and Richie peacefully slept together on Methos' big, comfy bed until way past daybreak. The heavy pounding at the door made them both jump, then Richie crawled out of bed to answer it. A very chipper Duncan and Amanda greeted them with breakfast. Amanda unpacked the bagels, muffins and fruit on the counter as Duncan started the coffee. "I know Methos doesn't have anything in the fridge, so we came to the rescue," she told them .

Friday pulled herself out of bed, again not expecting the gravitational pull on her newly mortal body, and sat back down to get her bearings. She smoothed her toga down and grabbed the red sash that hadn't fallen off the bed during the night and wrapped it around her waist. She only had one outfit to wear, she might as well wear it. She searched the night stand for her rings, and put them on her fingers, but was missing her silver thumb ring. Still sitting on the bed, she leaned over to look on the floor, and under the bed. Getting dizzy being upside down, Friday tumbled to the floor.

"Oh, Friday," Amanda went to her, bringing a buttered bagel, as the former jinniyah must be famished. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Friday sat up, shaking off the lightheadedness. "I just lost my dignity." She pulled the toga over her legs as it was twisted up around her waist.

"The first thing we're going to do is get you some clothes."

Friday hungrily grabbed the bagel from Amanda and shoved it in her mouth. "I need some. Thank you!"

"I brought a few things over for you to wear today, but we'll go shopping for things that are you."

Friday finished the rest of the bagel walked to the counter for a banana nut muffin. Amanda showed her some tops and pants to choose from for their shopping excursion. "They are all very nice, Amanda," she smiled, then the bursting of her heart made her pull Amanda into a hug.

"Whoa," Amanda reacted with surprise. "Pick something and... finish eating and I can show you the better stores in town."

"I can not afford clothes, Amanda," Friday again felt like crying. "I need a job."

"You can't get a job without clothes."

"And I can not get clothes without money. It is a vicious circle."

"It's my treat," Amanda said, hoping Friday wouldn't bust out crying again. Boy, when Friday mentioned that Jinn had big hearts, she wasn't just whistling Dixie. She patted the woman on the shoulder and said, "For all that free travel you gave me on our last shopping spree, and for friendship, it's my treat. We **_are_** friends, aren't we?" She remembered Friday adamantly denying it, when she knew Diabol could hear all that was said to use to his advantage.

Friday burst into a big smile and said, "I am honored to be your friend," then pulled Amanda into another bear hug.

Duncan and Richie were by the coffee pot having their own little discussion. Duncan looked at the bed and commented, "So, no one slept on the couch last night, huh?"

"I did for a while, then she offered me half the bed," Richie was happy to report, then shrugged, "But it wasn't... you know."

"No need for information, Rich," Duncan quickly said. "I just asked to see if I got out of having to buy you a couch."

"No, don't buy a couch," Richie was adamant. "I don't want there to be an option. I'm sleeping on that bed from now on. In fact, you can take that couch with you if you want. Please, take the couch with you and dump it somewhere."

"Nah," Duncan smiled. "It won't fit in your new car, which I just drove over."

"What?" Richie excitedly ran to the window, "You bought me a car?" He looked out at the curb. The T-bird was parked amidst a long line of cars lining both sides of the street. "Which one?"

"The Volkswagen," he pointed down at the white Rabbit a couple of cars ahead of the T-bird. "It's a starter car. It's no Lamborghini, but it will get you around town, since you don't have magical help anymore."

"It's great, Mac," Richie croaked, really affected by his teacher's gesture. "Thanks. Thanks a lot for everything."

Duncan handed over the keys and asked, "When do we start training again?"

Richie paused and flipped the keys over in his hand, "What I would like..." He looked over at Friday and Amanda cooing over clothes they took out of a leather bag Amanda brought with her. "I want to remember."

Duncan looked his student over, wondering if that was at all possible. The only way he could think of was for Richie to take his head. Richie said, "Could you just tell me everything you know about me, take the day or two to show me around town and point out places that I knew. Friday said that they wouldn't be **_my_** memories, but I'd still like to know... something."

"That sounds like a great idea," Duncan said, "Sure I will. Granted, I don't know everything about you, or what some things in your quickening meant, but I'll do everything I can to help you remember."

The three immortals felt a buzz and watched the door open. Methos stepped into his own place to see it filled with people. "Hey," Methos nonchalantly said. "My quiet little bachelor pad has turned into Grand Central Station?"

"Our three months aren't up yet," Friday said.

"I just came to pick up a few things. Is that all right for the Highness?"

Methos saw the head print on the other pillow on his bed, and only hoped they would wash the sheets before giving them back to him. Friday caught the sarcastic tone to his voice and pompously replied, "Sure, it is your place. Just leave the dog," she patted the porcelain head of the dalmatian Methos won on Wheel of Fortune. "I am quite fond of it."

Methos stared at her, "Well, you're in a better mood." He opened a dresser and shrugged, "Ah..." he looked at Richie and Friday. "You guys can have what I don't take with me."

"Great," Richie beamed. "What are you taking with you?"

"Clothes, books, stuff."

"That couch?"

"No," Methos smiled. "I know how you love it so."

"It's the worst couch I've ever come across," Richie said.

"How do you know what couches you've come across?"

They both lightly laughed, then Richie said, "It **_has_** to be."

"I won it in a poker game." Methos took some boxes and mix-matched luggage that consisted of a Samsonite and various dufflebags out of the closet and started to pack his things. He put a couple of books in a box and looked at the others, watching him work. Well, Friday was on her third muffin, but she was watching him too, between bites. Methos suggested, "Maybe you all want to help and I'll get done faster?"

"What do you want packed up?" Duncan plunged right in, as Methos gave orders of what he needed to take with him. But, very firmly stated, don't look through anything, just pack it up.

Friday looked at the other two bagels and really wanted them, but noticed she was the only one who had eaten. Better leave something for Richie. While the others were taking clothes out of the closet and things off the shelves, she looked at the crumpled bed. Neatness had always been important to her, but she didn't know the process needed to make the bed look nice. She hoped they didn't see her absent-mindedly wave her hand before she remembered she no longer had the power. 

Friday yanked at the blanket, the sheet fell out and flopped to the floor. She crumpled it under the blanket and that made an unsightly bulge. She stood, tapped her foot, hands on her hips, wondering how it could be so difficult. Trying again, she made it worse, pillows fell to the floor. She put them at the head of the bed, and the blanket was kitty wompus. After straightening the blanket, the sheet was again bunched down, hanging off the side of the bed. There had to be a trick to it, but she couldn't figure it out.

Richie had enough as she once again moved blankets and pillows to no effect. Before she could completely tear the bed apart, he took her arms and moved her out of the way. "Watch and learn," he sort of enjoyed saying to someone. He made the bed from scratch making sure she saw every step of the process. When finished, he plumped the pillows, tossed them at the head of the bed and covered them with the bed spread. He stepped back, proud. "See? Nothing to it."

"You did a nice job," she commented.

"Can you remember how to do it from now on?"

She glance at Richie, a little taken that he expected her to make the bed from now on. "No. I did not retain it all. I guess you will have to make the bed from now on, Richie."

Methos laughed as shook his head at the two of them as he put his books in the boxes. "Good luck, you two."

Amanda said, "You go, girl!"

Duncan poured over what seemed to be a diary he pulled from the shelves. He spotted Methos out the corner of his eye busy with other books, so he turned his body as he couldn't be seen reading it. Methos had written it in Latin, a form of Latin Duncan couldn't thoroughly translate, but got the gist of it. 

Richie told Friday, "We're going to do just fine. We'll share in the housework."

Methos scrutinized the former jinniyah and said, "I think she's going to make it possible for **_you_** to do the housework, Richie."

Friday hid her grin from them all, as she was in total agreement with Methos. She opened the fridge to scrounge for something more to eat. Disappointing, to say the least. Methos didn't have anything in there but mustard, a jar of pig's feet and beer. She grabbed a brew and looked at it. She couldn't flip the cap or make it disappear, even tried turning upside down thinking it would pour out. The writing on the cap caught her attention, "Ah. Directions," she mused and twisted the cap off, and took a swig. 

Amanda folded Methos' clothes neatly in a dufflebag as Richie slid a heavy box of books toward the door as Methos was getting toiletries out of the bathroom and Duncan was still immersed in Methos' side of their first meeting in the journal when they heard a crash and a thud. They dashed behind the counter in the kitchen area to see Friday on her butt, the broken bottle and beer flowing across the floor. "Wow!" she shook her head, dazed.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Friday groggily lifted her head, "I guess I can not hold my liquor any more." In trying to get up, she accidently brushed her hand against a shard of the bottle and blood poured out of her hand. "Ow!" She lifted her shaking hand up to see blood dripping down her arm, on her toga, mixing with the foamy beer spreading across the kitchen. That never happened before!

Richie lifted under Friday arm to help her off the floor. She was dizzy from the beer, gravity, and slipped on the liquid. "How much did you drink?" He picked her up and carried her to the couch.

"I don't know," she mumbled, worried about the blood, and how light headed she was from just a little beer. All that blood that flowed out of her hand, stung like needles in her skin and made her nauseous, two very foreign sensations for her. "What is that I feel?"

Methos saw blood had dripped on the couch, and knew it was at that moment, a goner. For that couch to begin it's travels in the palace Louis XIV, through the American Revolutionary and Civil Wars, be present at Appomattox Courthouse when Lee surrendered the Grant, to have Methos win it from Marcos in the Phillippines in a poker game, only to have it ruined by blood from a newly-mortal jinniyah. He shook his head and grabbed a towel, had to move Duncan aside to take a look at it. He put the towel over her lap, and the couch. "Get a wet rag," he asked Amanda. 

He took her hand and she immediately snatched it back. "No. It hurts."

"I was a doctor," he told her, almost out of patience. "Do you want me to take care of it, or do you just want to stare at it? That's not going to make it stop bleeding."

She gave him her hand and watched him closely as he gently wiped off the blood with the wet washcloth Amanda gave him. Only when it was soiled did he realize it was one of the few good ones. Methos asked, "Can you get a small towel and cut it into strips, Richie? There's a scissor in the junk drawer, and rags under the sink." 

There was a little piece of glass still in her hand, which he gently pulled out. She slapped his arm as it hurt and about levitated off the couch. "Hey!" Methos snapped. "Quit that." 

He shook his head as he remembered how much work she'd been. He cleaned off the cut and took the strips from Richie. "It's not deep enough to need stitches," he commented. 

"Stitches? What are stitches? That does not sound good," Friday hysterically said. Amanda patted her shoulder and took Friday's other hand to comfort her when it was thrust into her face.

Methos bundled one strip atop the cut to soak up the last of the blood, then wrapped the others around her hand. As he tied the ends, he said, "I don't have any bandages, this should handle it until it stops bleeding. Get yourself to a drug store for some antibiotic cream." He sat back on his ankles to scan his handiwork. It was patched up pretty good, he hadn't lost his touch.

She held her hand to her chest and moaned from the pain, then softly said, "Thank you."

Methos was unsettled by the sudden gratefulness after she whacked him just for helping clean her wound, and said, "You're welcome," then went back to packing.

Richie had watched their interplay and couldn't hold back any longer, he just had to ask, "How did you two first meet?"

Friday groaned, "It was one of the worst days of my life."

"Gee, thanks," Methos retorted.

"Not because of you," she told him, then fell silent. 

Richie sat next to her, interested. "Tell me about it." He wanted to know all about her and the life she lead. All the months of being with her since he got out of his grave, he'd ask, but she wouldn't let him in on any of it. He especially wanted to know how she got involved in such a bastard like Diabol in the first place, but how she met Methos would be a start.

Amanda sat on the other side of the couch and said, "I've been dying to hear about that, too."

Methos stayed out of the way, but kept an ear out for her side of the story. Duncan went back to reading Methos' take on the Kalas situation, as he would never hear it straight from the horse's mouth.

* * *

**EGYPT BCE**

"Try it again, Laminae," Malik gently said to her. "The bird on the tree... move him up a branch."

Laminae, Friday's true name, stood alongside her teacher on the tallest building in the great city of Alexandria, having a session to hone her magic. She had all the basics down, some of the advances spells, what she needed to do was refine. They could see the people of the city, going about their business, the slaves in the palace, the farmers in the field. What she had to focus on was the tiny yellow bird on the fruit tree. Laminae rose her hand, pointed her fingers to the yellow bird to lift him up a branch. When the magic hit the bird, he squawked and fell to the ground. After some wobbling around, he flew away.

Wen, a Shaitan, and Laminae's best friend, appeared to laugh at her inaptitude in calibrating her magic. Laminae groused to her teacher, "Why do I have to move a bird? They can move themselves. I can **_make_** my own bird."

Malik stated his mantra again, "It is not the magic itself, it is how you use the magic."

Wen laughed, "You will **_never_** get it right."

Laminae instantly turned her old friend into an ass, making Malik shake his head. His student was so impetuous, it was a wonder she'd made any progress at all. The ass whinnied with delight, as she knew it was just in fun and she'd get her back. "How about that?" Laminae proudly boasted.

Malik scolded, "Magic is not to be used for tricks. But, since you did it, try to make Wen move with your magic."

Laminae kicked the ass in the butt, moving her, and laughed. "You do not need magic for everything."

Wen, in the form of the ass, head butted Laminae in return, who fell off the building, and floated in mid air, laughing with her friend.

Malik grabbed Laminae's arm and stood her beside him. "It is a good thing I think ahead and made us appear invisible to the masses. Turn her back," Malik demanded. "We will go back to working with the birds."

Wen was turned back into her normal form, then fell off the edge. They could hear her laugh on the ground, so she was fine. Laminae and Malik looked down at her, one smiling as she was having a blast, the other one almost out of patience with the both of them. They saw Wen's eyes grow wide and point behind them up on the roof, then instantly disappear. Malik and Laminae slowly turned to see that Diabol had appeared. "My sweet," his voice oozed with artificial sugar. "I wondered where you were."

"My world!" Laminae put herself between her teacher and her husband. "I thought you were dead!"

Malik didn't appreciate being 'protected' from his former student, and shifted her to stand behind him. "You should be dead," Malik seethed to Diabol. 

Diabol appreciated that they both remembered him so well, it had been over a two hundred years since they were face to face. "Come, Malik," he happily said. "I was the best student you ever had."

"You are a **_devil_**," Malik spouted. "The Marid were to take care of you."

"But, I am quicker than they are."

Malik immediately sat in a lotus position and called for the Marid to come and take their prisoner away. Diabol knew his teacher was steadfast and true, which was exceptionally annoying, the man would never appreciate the true value of magic, to bend the world to suit yourself. The Marid Council, that was another matter all together, and couldn't have any part of those entities again. 

When Diabol stepped forward to stop Malik's chant to the higher ups, Laminae thrust herself between them again. Wen appeared on the roof a safe distance away, watching closely. She couldn't do a thing about what Diabol or Malik would do, they were both higher up, Afrit. But she was a Shaitan and could protect her jinniyah friend, Laminae.

"You do not interfere with Marid Council," Laminae asserted, making Diabol once again admire her spunk. He had been Malik's student when Laminae turned 18 and came into her own in the world of Jinn. Malik agreed to take her on as a student, and she fell immediately, and hopelessly, in love with his prize student at the time, Diabol, from that first meeting. Diabol smiled again as jinniyah were so easily swayed. He might have actually fallen in love with her if she wasn't so feisty. 

Diabol told her, "You could pay for interfering with me, dear." Malik had made contact with the Council. Even though Diabol would loved to have killed the Afrit on the spot, one couldn't do any harm to their teacher. Ever. But, Laminae didn't know that. Even if she did, she could easily conceive of Diabol doing anything he wanted, as he usually did. That was why he was in trouble with the Council in the first place. There could be an interesting way to get rid of them both, as he was still bitter about her leaving him. Diabol looked at the town square and zeroed in on a simple wooden box that clearly had seen better days, on the back of a vendor's table. Diabol waved his hand, and Malik instantly disappeared. Laminae screamed out, "Where is he?"

Diabol gleefully shrugged. Whistled to the sky, not a care in the world. Wen and Laminae both rushed to him, just as a Marid appeared, wondering why the connection was lost with Malik. "He did it," Laminae accused Diabol to the robed figure who floated above them. 

The Marid glared at Diabol, who suddenly knew he had gone too far. It was best to make his leave before he could be taken back to the Council. Diabol grabbed Laminae and disappeared. Wen tried to hold her back, but they vanished before she could get a solid grip on her hair. The Marid evaporated and she frantically looked down to the people in the square for Diabol and Laminae. She spotted her long black hair across the way and moved herself down to her.

Wen arrived by her side as Diabol was whispering in Laminae's ear, "Look to the box," then laugh as he disappeared. He had to beat it before the Marid could catch up with him. Laminae looked all over for a box, any box. Picked up ones she'd see, then drop them as soon as she knew Malik wasn't in it. Wen followed, then helped search. When Laminae reached the vendor table with Malik's box, she picked it up, breathed a sigh of relief. She was so happy, she forgot to pay for it, before walking away with it clutched to her chest.

A burly man grabbed Laminae from behind after the vendor screamed, "She is stealing my property!" Laminae, clutching the box, realized what she did and was perfectly willing to pay for it. Trouble was, the crowd had gathered anticipating a good show, the vendor shouted that he wanted her hand cut off! Before Laminae could explain, another guard grabbed her arm, making her drop the box. The crowd was ablaze with the prospect of bloodshed and chanted for her hand.

Laminae, who wasn't used to being the focus of people, and was easy to scare, fell into stunned silence. The guard, Methos, yelled out to the crowd, "She'll pay for her deed! Mind your duties."

As he lead her away, she couldn't leave her teacher! "I need that box!" Laminae screamed at him. The vendor grabbed the box and protectively brought it through the crowd back to his stand. 

Methos pulled Laminae through the streets as she tried to jerk her arm away. "I need what is **_in_****** the box," she said. That wasn't getting her anywhere, so she looked at the handsome guard and softened, plead with him, making sure her eyes were as big and innocent as possible. "Please, help me get it back."

"I am not the one to be trying any tricks on," he laughed, motioned to his uniform, steered her threw the chanting crowd. She wasn't a cooperative captive, so he asked, "Do you own that box?"

"No," she had to admit.

"Then you don't own what it contains."

"But it **_is_** mine," she defiantly stood her ground. She looked around for Wen or a Marid to help her. Needing to explain what happened, but knowing it wouldn't work to lay out Jinn history to a man with a sword and armor, she said, "I know you can not possibly understand, but my teacher is in there." She became more frantic as she rattled off, "I need him! He just trapped him in the box so I can not get him and learn more and become more powerful. He is playing tricks with me and he is going to end up killing me!"

"Who?"

"Dia--," Laminae started to say, but was grabbed by other soldiers who pulled her toward the jail.

She was thrown into a cell in the dungeon on the palace and landed in a heap in the corner. She picked herself up, brushed the dinge off that her clothes collected from the floor, and calmed herself down. She had put herself in a precarious position that she didn't need to. The guards were laughing at her and it only made her mad. Laminae waved her hand, and she disappeared. 

Because they saw her disappear in front of his eyes, a guard went into her cell and searched it. Looked up at the ceiling and under the bench. She wasn't there. The guards lost their folly, and gaped at each other, astonished. 

Laminae materialized on the outskirts of the city. She had to make contact with Malik, to tell him she would get him free, and to see if he was okay after being tousled around in that box. She sat with legs crossed and put her palms up on her lap to call to him. Just as she was hearing her teacher's soft, comforting voice telling her it was all right and that he will wait for her, Diabol appeared in her lap. 

She threw him off. He was joyous as he told her, "If you make one move to free Malik, I will kill him."

"You can not do that."

"Of course I can."

She knew he 'could', but said, "It would be against every rule ever written. Malik is your teacher."

Diabol simply reminded her, "Since when do I play by the rules? He is a simp! It is almost embarrassing to have such a sympathetic teacher in my past. As long as that meddler stays within that box, he will live. If you free him, it will be because of you that he is dead. Or, you could kill yourself." He leaned in close to her as he said, "That is what I have wanted all along, you know that. Just think, Laminae. Do the deed, and Malik will be free, and live. You make the choice, dear."

The young jinniyah saw his menacing, sneering face, smelled his foul breath, knew all the devious deeds he'd done during their time together and knew he was **_not_** kidding. She felt like crumpling into a million pieces, but asked him, "Because you hate me, you will kill our teacher?"

"Of course," he snarled. "Malik introduced me to the scourge of my life. No one leaves me and lives. I have visualized all the ways I could kill you, but it would be so much sweeter if you did it yourself. It is your choice, Laminae. Our dear teacher, or you. And who do you really think will be missed more?"

The Marid appeared, "Diabol!"

Diabol quickly disappeared from having been found. Damn Marid! Before he left the scene all together, he spoke again to Laminae. She clearly heard him her mind. "Free him, and Malik is dead." The Marid vanished to go after him before she could tell him what Diabol had done, and the choice he made her have to make. Laminae was crushed and didn't know what to do. It was all her fault. In her mind, Diabol started acting out, leaving Malik and using black magic after she left him. 

She materialized in the square to get the box, but the crowd recognized her. She ran into an alley and disappeared, afraid. Not knowing where else to go, and couldn't leave Malik behind, she went back to the cell. A guard spotted her and was puzzled by her absence, and sudden reappearance. He only had one explanation, she was a sorceress! The other guards gathered around her cell, chanting that she must be killed. The only argument between them was who would get the honor. 

Laminae crouched in the corner, listening to them berate her, knowing Diabol would kill Malik if she set him free, and she wouldn't ever be able to hone her magic, and couldn't live with herself if she let it happen. She called out for Wen for advice, but her friend didn't come. Diabol probably killed her already. Laminae was all alone and cried, completely fragile.

That night, a decision was handed down that Laminae would be executed at sunrise for attempted robbery. Usually things were handled quietly, in the privacy of the jail, but the soldiers decided there had been too much thievery going on and a beautiful woman's execution in front of the citizens they needed to control would be a symbol that such behavior would no longer be tolerated from anyone. When the Pharaoh herself was told of their plans, Cleopatra decided to attend.

Methos scrutinized the woman, and heard the other guards labeling her, cat calling her, reducing her to mere dust, just for being different from them. It happened to immortals all the time. Even though Methos didn't believe the others when they told him she did indeed disappear for a while, he knew the woman wasn't a sorceress. The woman was crazy. The object of the crime was a piece of junk. There were more fitting criminals that deserved to be made a symbol for the good citizens of Alexandria. The woman's words were strange. She admitted to the attempted theft, didn't apologize for it, like the guilty usually did when caught, fruitlessly thinking it would help save parts of their anatomy, including their heads. All she did was come up with a crazy excuse.

Laminae was crushed, having that very fragile heart, which had broke so suddenly. She thought she would never again see her teacher and didn't want him dead because of her. Her best friend was gone, her husband was an ass that she would never be free of. Malik was locked away in a box the couldn't get out of unless she agreed to Diabol's choice. If she chose her own life, that box would probably be burned one day because it was worthless and no one would listen to her that it contained everything she had in the world, or if he ever escaped, Diabol would kill him. Diabol never once in the time she'd known him, ever broke his solemn vows. 

Methos and the guards were gambling in their area of the prison when they heard her loud weeping. He yelled at her to shut up. When she didn't, he walked to her cell and banged his hilt against the door. "It would be better if you were seen, not heard."

He had scared her and she darted to the other side of the cell. Looked up at the black night and could make out stars through a hole in the roof and didn't know what to do. A hawk flew over, which she knew was Diabol. She wasn't high enough on the chain to call for Marid herself. Diabol had probably already killed her best friend, her only true friend in the world. She was utterly alone, she could just as well be dead. If she did die, maybe Diabol would free Malik. It was her only hope.

* * *

**THE NEXT MORNING**

Laminae was brought out to the square in chains. Cleopatra herself sat on an ornate throne atop a pedestal so the subjects could see her. The crowd was blood thirsty. Laminae stared at the Pharaoh for the first time in her life, not realizing she was so beautiful. Regal. There to see her lose her life. That was definitely a strike against her in Laminae's book. She looked around for any sign of Diabol, and didn't see him or any of his forms. A fat man with a sword walked onto the platform with her while a scrawny man said a prayer for the Pharaoh's reign as Laminae was chained to the stone used only for the purpose of cutting off criminal's heads.

Wen had been having a terrible time. Whenever she would get anywhere near Alexandria to counsel her friend, knowing that Laminae was quick to give up, Diabol would appear and throw flames at her, so she would take off. The last thing she needed was to die by his hand. She remembered trying to talk Laminae out of marrying him, but young girls in love were worse than lazy mules. Wen took the form of a bird, much like the one Laminae tried to move before Diabol made his appearance, hoping she would notice her. 

Wen about had a heart attack when she saw Laminae actually chained in front of the mass of Alexandria, about to lose her head! That girl! Wen herself couldn't stop the inevitable as Laminae was allowing it to happen, but she could try to make someone do it. She squawked and put out a spell on the guards, who she figured had the power to stop such an act. Suddenly, Methos stepped forward, confused as to why he had. Before he could step back in line with the rest of the guards, Wen focused on him and vexed him into helping her dear friend. 

He cleared his throat and loudly stated, "I wish to buy the woman's freedom."

Needless to say, there was a great murmur of the crowd, fellow guards, and Cleopatra herself stood in rapt attention. At that moment, Laminae perceived friendship and kindness in the world, and for the first time, saw the bird and knew it was Wen. She decided then that if the wonderful man wasn't able to convince them to set her free, she would disappear, and find a way to save Malik when she was thinking clearly. The bird chirped and Laminae burst with happiness that her friend was still alive.

Suddenly, Cleopatra stood and slowly moved forward, "Why would I allow such a thing?" Since she said it so forcefully, almost as if she was spitting out rancid food, Wen flew toward and above her, and put out one more spell. 

Methos, still under the influence, stated to the crowd, and the Pharaoh, "It was only attempted robbery, Your Highness. The box is worthless. Her crime doesn't fit the punishment."

Cleopatra looked at the crowd, and wondered how they'd accept the decision she suddenly, unbelievably, formulated in her mind. "I will allow it," she said, as the crowd rose up in anger. "Quiet!" The guards stood around their Pharaoh, ready to pounce on whoever dared defy her word. After they submissively silenced, Cleopatra looked at the guard, Methos, and ordered, "I will allow it. You will compensate the vendor. If she is ever in trouble again, it would be **_your_**__ head on that block."

That gave Methos pause, and rethought the gesture. He was still close to his horsemen days and thought he had offered it quickly, astonishingly, to save her as a need to cleanse his own soul. That had to be why he did it, he couldn't think of any other reason, but didn't want his head on the block for it. Methos looked up at the woman at the chopping block and wondered just how crazy she was, and if he could trust her.

Laminae smiled and nodded to Methos, to let him know she wouldn't be a problem, he could trust her. A bothersome bird warbled above him, making him think that what was done was done. How it was done, he still wasn't sure, but he turned to the Pharaoh and declared, "Agreed." Cleopatra waved her head, and instantly, the devoted guards unchained Laminae. She stood and faced the man who sacrificed his own freedom for hers if she again committed a crime, which would never happen. 

The guards freed Laminae and the sun seemed brighter, the air was crisper, she saw that bird and knew her friend was still with her. She was suddenly so happy, Laminae decided to give that sweet guard a freebie. As she walked through the crowd to Methos, Laminae tried to think of the best thing a man could wish for, and decided it was a night of love... and who better than the ravishing Pharaoh? Laminae waved her hand and made it so.

Cleopatra had, at first, been a little put off by one of her guards suggesting her law was wrong, but when she glared at him, she couldn't find it in her heart to reprimand him. In fact, she was enamored with the man and looked at him twice for the first time since he'd been in her service. 

Cleopatra regally stated across the crowd from her throne, "Soldier, what is your name?"

"Methos," he stated, bowed, "Your Highness."

She whispered to a hand maiden and walked out of the square with her entourage.

Laminae smiled as she knew what was ahead of the wonderful soldier. A freebie... that wasn't enough to show how much she appreciated his humanity. She was handed over to him by the guards. "Thank you, Master," she proudly stated, ready to be his jinniyah.

Methos had enough slaves in his life, and didn't take that term well, and spewed, "Don't call me that." The crowd was disbursed but were let down that they wouldn't see blood. A few stragglers followed Methos and Laminae to see what would happen, but the other guards broke it up. After the tension of the morning, and the matter was settled down, Methos didn't know what to do with the woman. He didn't actually have to take care of her, did he? That wasn't at all acceptable. "Just stay out of trouble," he told her as he walked away.

As he strolled along through the square, he noticed that she was his shadow, as if stapled to his hip. "Go away," he stopped to tell her.

"I can not."

"Yes, you can," he turned her around and nudged her to start walking. "Just start walking and don't stop."

She turned around. "There is nothing but desert out there. I live here. With you, Master."

"Don't call me that."

He walked off and she followed, waving at Wen, who was flying above them and insisted, "I can give you three wishes, Master."

Methos laughed. He was right, the woman was insane. "I wish you'd quit calling me master."

"Done," Laminae said, and never did again. "Next?"

He shook his head, and played along with her. "I wish you would leave." He walked on. Then realized she was in fact, gone. He shrugged and hoped it would be the last he saw of her, and she didn't get into trouble. Then, figured she probably **_was_** going to get into trouble. And he'd lose his head! Why did he do that?! He stalked through the streets to find her.

Laminae hadn't gone far, and Methos knew exactly where she had to be. He found her as she was walking back to the vendor's table. Perfect! She was going to get them both killed. He ran to them.

Laminae looked all over for Diabol in any form, as she walked to the table, and saw the box front and center. It was marked up in price because it was such a curiosity as a woman's freedom was bought and the crowd was thrilled by it all. The talk was brisk and she caught snippets of their conversations that consisted of thinking it was a wonderful gesture by the Great Pharaoh, even though they didn't see a head flying, and that soldier, what was his name? Laminae smiled, again thanking Wen for having everything work out.

She stood in front of the vendor's stand to ask the price of the box. When she grabbed it before, she was distraught. She didn't make that mistake again. The only thing that could go wrong was if Diabol showed up. 

The vendor pointed to the sign. She smiled and shook her head at the overcharge of the piece of junk, to other's eyes, recognizing entrepreneurial spirit when she saw it, "May I lift it?"

"Why?"

"I want to purchase it and I want to make sure it is indeed the box I want."

The vendor let her. Just as she lifted it in her hands, Methos ran up to her. "What are you thinking? Put that back. Now!"

She dropped the box on the table and pushed Methos back. "Sorry," she told Malik as she picked it up again, bringing it to her ear. 

Malik spoke to her. "I wish you would quit doing that!"

She breathed a sigh of relief having heard his voice, although it was almost to the breaking point of his patience. She stuck her hand in her clothing and pulled out a pouch, full of coins, that she magically conjured up and handed it over to the vendor. "This is three times what you are now asking. This box is **_mine_**."

The vendor snatched the pouch and about fainted when he saw all the coins. Methos was more than ticked. After all that, she had money!

Laminae walked away with the box watching everything, every one and every animal around her to keep a look out for Diabol in any form. Methos grabbed her arm, making her drop the box once again. "Why did you let me pay for your freedom, when you could afford that garbage in the first place?!"

"That was sweet of you, and I appreciate it very much." She picked up the box and told it, "I am sorry."

Methos laid his head back, she was insane. "Please, pack your things, and that box, and go away."

"Is that your last wish?"

"Sure."

"Say it."

"Huh?"

She moved him to a quiet area and said, "You do not believe me, but I am a jinniyah, and you have already wasted two wishes. Think carefully and say the words... I wish... and it will come true. Okay?"

What did he get himself into? How could the woman be so far gone from reality? He closed his eyes and rued the day he decided to go to Alexandria in the first place. "Just... go... away."

Laminae was a little put off by that, but she extended her hand. Shook his. "Thank you for everything what you have done. I guess you want to forfeit your last wish."

"Sure."

"I will not negate it. One day you might come to your senses and you will want it. That is my gift to you. You have one more wish."

"Wonderful," he grimaced, and watched her twirl on her heel and walk away. He went back to his home to pack up his things. Time had run out for him in the city and it was time to move on. 

As he was packing, a guard burst through the door, "Methos!"

Methos jumped and was ready to run. She had to have gotten into trouble already! All exits were blocked by his fellow guards.

Laminae appeared in an oasis in the desert and sat beside her teacher's box as she gingerly set it on the sand. The only problem now was to open it. Diabol's magic manufactured the lock, but there had to be a way to open it. She made a dagger appear in her hand and started sawing on edges. An Afrit appeared before her, startling her. She crawled back, with the box in her arm, and asked, "Who are you?!"

Wen appeared in her familiar form and said, "This is my friend I have been meaning to introduce to you. Laminae," Wen excitedly added, "You should have seen it! The Marid got a hold of Diabol and took him back to Council! It was so great, you should have seen his face." 

The Afrit calmly held out his hands, "May I see the box?"

The box suddenly appeared in his hands. "Be careful with it," Laminae said. Then asked Wen, "What is going on?"

"He is strong enough to negate the magic of Diabol and free Malik," Wen explained, then grabbed her friend, who still had her head, and almost squeezed the life out of her. "What in all that is magical were you thinking? How could you put yourself in that position?"

"I am sorry!" Laminae pulled herself free, "I took Diabol for his word that he would kill Malik."

Wen hugged her again, "Do not ever do that again. I was scared to death. You have to **_think_**, Laminae. Diabol could never kill his own teacher."

The Afrit got the lock open and Malik swirled out of the box. Before he was in human form, he marched right to Laminae to say, "Promise me, Laminae, do not do that ever again. What happens to me is **_not_**__ your responsibility. Remember that!"

Laminae was so sorry and started crying. Malik didn't want that, the girl was so fragile! He hugged her to comfort her, "I know you love me. I know you want to protect me, but you can not do that." He looked to the Afrit and Wen, "What is your name?"

The Afrit replied, "Acetabullar."

Malik laughed, "You are the one who taught the mortals how to gamble! They lose all sorts of money playing cups and balls. That was you?"

The Afrit shrugged with a sly smile, "It keeps them occupied." He regarded Laminae and said, "Keep out of trouble, young one. Your friends may not be able to back you up next time."

"I will," she promised and thanked him for freeing Malik. He disappeared before she was finished. 

Wen said, "He is a great guy. Do you like him? He is the one I have been telling you about."

"I like him, but no thank you. No more arranged meetings for me," Laminae firmly stated, then caught Malik looking guilty. That was a bad decision on his part to think his two students would hit it off, and he never partook in match making again.

~~~~~~

Two guards took each of Methos' arms and pulled him outside. Methos' mind whirled with what trouble that woman could have gotten into, that he would have to pay for. Damn it all! He felt his dagger at his side and tried to reach it before they could throw him on that stone, still waiting to get a head. He knew the crowd was blood thirsty and he stupidly walked into trouble. "Wait!" Methos yelled at the men who he thought was his friends. "I can explain."

"I would like to know how you managed it," one said, smiling. "We're just following orders."

"Who's orders?"

"The Pharaoh's," the other said. 

Methos jerked himself free and grabbed his dagger, ready to slash out at them all surrounding them. "Methos," another asked, "how did you make Her Highness want to see you?"

"In her bed chamber," another slyly added. 

Methos slashed out to him, then paused, heard their words, "Her what?"

"That's our orders, Methos," a guard said, taking his arm again. "We're to take you to the palace. I heard she's bathing in milk as we speak."

Methos was stunned as they led him to the palace, through the halls, to the Pharaoh's door. They opened it and threw Methos in. He rolled across the floor and jumped to his feet, ready for anything. He took out his dagger again, looked at the exits, then heard a soft voice call to him.

He turned around to see the Pharaoh sprawled on her bed. "Come closer, Methos," she said, laying back.

That, he wasn't ready for. It had to be a trick. He looked around to see they were completely alone. Cleopatra's hand maidens had even made themselves scarce. Cleopatra seductively said, "Are you going to stand there, are you going to come to service your Queen?" 

Since those were his choices, Methos chose the latter.

  
  


* * *

**SEACOUVER**

Methos shrugged, "So, it wasn't my magnetic personality, huh?"

"Nope, not at all," Friday firmly stated. She got up from the couch and saw the blood stain on it. It was an ugly couch and she wasn't sorry for soiling it. She asked Amanda, "I can choose any outfit I want?"

"Sure," Amanda pointed at the totes on the bed. "Anything." While Friday perused the options, Amanda bonked Methos on the arm, "You had three wishes and you wasted them!?"

"I didn't know she was telling the truth," Methos defended himself. "How could I know? She was a lunatic."

"Excuse me?" Friday had been on her way to the bathroom to change and twirled around in anger. "You know, you gave me the business about being a pain in the rear, but you were not a picnic, either!"

Amanda rubbed her hands together in euphoria, "Oooo, do tell!"

Richie looked over at Duncan, not appreciating old home week between who he wanted as his girlfriend and the man who knew her a heck of a lot longer than he did. Duncan wasn't paying attention to any of it, he was still immersed in the journal. When Methos noticed what the Highlander was up to, he stalked over to him and snatched the book out of Duncan's hand. "Would you **_please_**?"

Duncan told him, "You know, you have an interesting way of documenting facts."

"It's my journal, I can say what I want."

Duncan helped Methos close up the last of the book boxes and said, "Thanks for how you depicted Fitz. He was good friend."

"Yes, he was, MacLeod," Methos agreed. "Hugh Fitzcairn touched many lives."

Before they could segue into talking about someone he didn't know, Richie said, "Can we go revisit more recent history, like **_my_** life?"

Friday again backed out of the bathroom again, "What do you mean?"

"Mac told me he'd take me around town to tell me stuff about my upbringing and where I lived, and worked, and knew."

"That is not a good idea."

"Why not?"

"He could skew you."

"Like you couldn't?" Methos thought that was a good line, but Friday's glare wasn't good. Then he remembered she couldn't do a thing to him anymore and stood tall. There were no toads or asses in his future.

Richie said, "He can show me my last apartment, wherever I've worked or what I've done since I met him. I can form my own opinion."

"Of course you can form your own opinion," Friday was adamant. "But it is dangerous. I have seen it."

"I don't see how," Richie stated. "Mac? Do you want to go?"

Amanda said, "I'm taking the T-bird. I'm **_not_** to be seen in a Rabbit."

Duncan tossed the T-bird keys to her and the men walked out the door. Richie saying, "See ya later."

Amanda stood outside the bathroom while Friday changed and scrutinized Methos zipping up a back pack. "So, tell me about the third wish."

Methos stood and slung the strap over his shoulder, "I didn't have one."

"Your loss!" Friday yelled from the bathroom.

"What was all that trickster stuff?"

"I just got the better of her about 1500 years ago."

Methos saw that he had been there all day. He wrangled Amanda to help carry the last of his stuff out to the Land Rover. Friday came down to the street, dressed in Amanda's clothes, that were a little tight. Methos shook his head, wished them luck, and drove away.

  
  


******CONTINUED** in Part Five

   [1]: mailto:EnyaJo@aol.com



	5. The Mortal World

**THE FRIDAY SERIES 5**

**THE MORTAL WORLD**

by JoLayne  
[EnyaJo@aol.com][1]

* * *

**RATING**: PG

**CHARACTERS**: DM M R OFC Friday

[][2]**SUMMARY**: Here's how Friday deals with her new mortality.

* * *

**1998 SEACOUVER**

Amanda patiently waited in the idling T-Bird as she watched Friday walk out of Methos' apartment building. The newly mortal Jinniyah was certainly heavy on her feet as the shoes Amanda lent her had a little too high of a heel. Friday walked with her arms out at her sides like a pole that highwire walkers needed for balance. 

As Methos drove away, Amanda was really proud of the persnickety old man, who had given Richie and Friday a home, his home. Methos was a study of contradictions and Amanda wondered when he would ever cease to amaze her. She looked over to see how far Friday had progressed in her trek to the T-Bird, and saw her clutching onto a lamppost for dear life. She groaned, rolled down the window and pleasantly said, "Should I call out the National Guard, Friday?"

"I am used to silk slippers, Amanda," Friday felt like a fool, but didn't want to fall on her butt either. She hadn't been that high up off the ground before without using her magic. 

Amanda compared the height of the shoes on her own feet with the ones she loaned to Friday in case they could switch. Amanda's were even higher. "Tell you what," she got out of the car to help Friday. "First stop, a shoe store." Amanda took her arm and led her like she was an old woman to the car. "One foot in front of the other."

"Can I just take them off?"

"I don't think they'll let you into a shoe store if you're not wearing shoes."

"Then, why would I need to be in a shoe store if I already have shoes?"

Amanda chuckled, "So, by your logic, you could walk into a clothing store buck naked."

"It is all very confusing," Friday said. "I have only gone into stores when I need what they are selling."

After Friday was safely ensconced on the passenger seat of the T-Bird, seat belt securely fastened, Amanda took a deep breath and realized that the day may drag along very slowly if she had to help Friday through something as simple as walking in high heels.

While Amanda wove the T-bird expertly through traffic, on all sorts of roads, Friday payed close attention to everything she did. "You drive very well," she commented.

"Thank you," Amanda sweetly smiled.

"You keep in your own lane, you do not speed, you leave a safe distance in front of you, you do not drive at all like Richie does," she commented. "Is it hard to drive a car?"

Amanda shrugged, "It's like riding a bicycle, I guess."

"How do you ride a bicycle?"

Amanda gaped at her, "Oh, come on..."

"Well, I have ridden on a bicycle, many times. But I mean, how do you ride a bicycle when you have to deal with gravity?"

"I never thought about it before."

"I had not either, but I have to take that into consideration from now on."

Amanda saw that Friday was rubbing the bandage on her hand from the beer bottle break that morning and wondered if she should take her to an emergency room to get it checked by a doctor. A current doctor, one with an up-to-date license. Get anti-biotics or antiseptic or whatever one used for deep cuts. "Does it still hurt?"

Friday nodded, help back tears as she lifted the edge to see the red, swollen scar. She put her hand down and looked out her side window. Scars. Amanda wouldn't know how to deal with one, and Friday had to be completely thrown for a loop with her new found mortality, scarring, gravity. She needed a break so Amanda told her, "Take off those shoes."

"Huh?"

"Take the shoes off."

"But I thought--."

"Friday, take off the shoes," Amanda good-naturedly ordered. "I'll just buy an extremely expensive pair for you, maybe two or three, and they won't care if you came waltzing through the door with pack of angry dogs."

Friday laughed and thanked her, yanked off the shoes and tossed them out the window, happy. Amanda slammed on the brakes. "What did you do that for? That are **_my good_**__ shoes!"

Friday gasped when she realized what she had done without a thought and jerked around in her seat to see one shoe laying in the middle of the street, cars honking their horns because of Amanda's sudden stop. "Go get them!" Amanda ordered, putting her hands up and mouthing at the car behind them who was laying on his horn.

One of Amanda's shoes had hit the windshield of a car when Friday had thrown it out. While fetching it, the driver of that car wasn't at all happy. "If you dented my hood," he yelled. "I'm suing your ass! I know your license plate number!"

Friday darted through the parked and slowly passing cars to pick up the other. She ran back into the car. After Amanda pulled out, Friday wiped the shoes off. "You can't treat objects as disposable objects anymore, Friday. Your things aren't going to come back to you."

"I am sorry," Friday weakly cried, tears flooded down her cheeks. "I did not think. I am sorry."

"It's all right. You just have to think from now on, you can't do things second nature until you're used to the way things really work." She didn't like to see Friday collapse into a crying jag. If she were still jinn, she would have taken off already. Amanda pacified her, "It's all right, Friday."

Friday carefully presented the shoes to Amanda, who told her, "Just set them in the back seat." She patted Friday's knee and said, "It's all right. There's no need to cry."

~~~~~

They all met back at the loft for supper that evening, Friday with her new wardrobe, and Richie with some new 'memories'. As soon as the elevator rose to their floor, Richie excitedly yelled down to tell them, continuing as he yanked Friday out of the elevator. Friday dropped most of her shopping bags from Richie's rush to divulge all he had done that day. "Mac showed me almost everything he could think of! Where my father, who I thought was my father, but he wasn't, he was only pretending to be my father, I saw where he lived. I saw my apartment while I was Mac's student before. Where Mac knew that I hung out. Boy, what a dump! No one remembered me. I guess that's good because I'm supposed to be dead."

"That antique store," he kept on rambling, took Friday's arm so she would listen to him instead of paw through all the purchases Amanda made for her. "Remember when we were at that bookstore? Where you asked if I read any books before?"

Friday had to smile at how happy he was, and said, "Of course, I remember, Richie. I remember everything."

"We went there today, Mac and I," Richie giddily said. "I remember looking at the store across the street, did you look at it?"

She had to admit, "I do not remember that."

Richie chuckled, then happily announced, "That store was an antique store! Mac and Tessa ran it!" Tessa's name caught Amanda's attention and looked at Mac for his reaction. She knew that Tessa's memory was still held close to his heart. Mac only stood with a smile on his face, also happy that his student was so pleased with their day. Richie told Friday, "I broke into the place, Friday! I worked there!"

"You broke into a store?"

Richie shrugged, that wasn't the important part, "But I remembered the store... I didn't remember, like a memory, more like a deja vu type thing. I worked there! And I remembered it on my own, before Mac told me about it."

Friday asked Duncan, "You hired a thief to work in your store?"

Mac was a little put off that she had honed into a small portion of his and Richie's productive afternoon, "I guess you could look at it that way. I considered it more along the line of having to keep my eye on him. I knew he was pre-immortal."

She interrogated Richie, "What did you take from Mr. MacLeod?"

"Nothing," Richie said. "I don't think." He asked Duncan, "Did I take anything?"

"No," Duncan said. "You weren't a bad kid, Rich." He didn't like how Friday didn't let things just flow in the life of Richie. Every single little thing that Richie was happy about was picked apart ad nauseam by her.

Friday quickly asked, "How do you know that?" 

"Because I gave the kid a chance and got to know him."

Over dinner, Friday had to remind Richie that she didn't appreciate thieves, to which he pointedly asked her where she got her new clothes, the earrings she was wearing, "You were only wearing rings on your fingers and in your nose when you left this morning."

"That is not the same thing. Amanda bought them and I will ... one day ... hopefully ... pay her back."

"There's no need," Amanda said. "I gave you those things out of friendship."

"There," Friday told Richie. "See?"

"I became friends with Mac," Richie countered.

"After the fact," Friday said, then looked at Duncan. "Did you tell him how it all unfolded, point by point?" Before he could answer, she told Richie, "You only know what he tells you. He might not have wanted to bring up the fact that you stole a solid gold coin, or a chest, or... went to prison." She looked at Duncan again, "Did he take anything, Mr. MacLeod?"

"Mac, call me Mac. Everyone else does and I'm more comfortable with that," Duncan told her. "And no, he didn't. He was... interrupted--."

"So you would have," Friday told Richie, no longer interested in what Duncan had to say. "You broke in intending to steal something and if you were not interrupted, you would have. You have to remember that Richie. You have found out places and the end result of a friendship, but you did not find out the facts on how you got to where you are today."

"He'll keep learning," Duncan interrupted her. "I'm not going anywhere. We're going to do a lot of talking, Richie and I. Give him a break. The 'end result' of Richie's and my friendship is that I took his head! Would you have preferred that was the last thing Richie heard about me? He'll hear it all."

"Through your telling of it."

"I'm not going to lie to Rich!" Duncan stood up, "I have never lied to him and I'm certainly not going to start now."

"What did you try to steal in Mr. MacLeod's establishment?"

Richie shrugged, "I don't know."

"See?" Friday looked again to Duncan, "Richie was a teenager, who had to resort to stealing, or maybe he was a rich kid who was doing it for kicks, or maybe--."

"Richie didn't have a good childhood, Friday," Duncan said. 

Both Friday and Richie sadly asked, "Really?" She put her hand on Richie's and said, "You remembered a building, you were told that you were there, but you do not have any idea why or how you got there."

"But I remembered," he painfully told her.

"Yes," she smiled. "And that is wonderful. I hope that means that you will be able to remember more, to remember everything about yourself, but do not focus on only what you want to hear, Richie. Look at the bigger picture and try to make all the pieces fit."

Richie nodded, understanding where she was coming from and asked Mac, "What did I steal?"

"Nothing."

"Do not coddle him, Mr. MacLeod."

"He didn't steal anything," Duncan yelled, not liking to be second guessed himself. He softened when he told Richie, "You tried to take a sword. I felt your pre-immortal hum and knew there was someone in the shop. I surprised you with my sword. But then, I felt a stronger hum, a buzz, of an immortal. We were both interrupted by an immortal jumping through the window, Slan."

"Jumping through the window?" Friday asked.

"Slan wasn't the classic example of subtly," Duncan smiled. 

"Let me guess, Slan Quince?" Amanda pointedly asked.

"Yeah, did you know him?"

"I ran into him in San Francisco, when I ran the Double Eagle," Amanda said. "He kept going on and on about his 'pretty' face." She shook her head and shrugged, "To each his own. He had a face only a mother could love."

Friday and Richie had no idea what they were talking about. "Can we get back to me?" Richie asked.

Friday fiddled with her bandage, scratching at the scar, and didn't stop them from having old home week. She paid attention to what was being said to Richie, but didn't interrupt. She didn't want to deny him the knowledge that Duncan and Amanda, or Joe or even Methos could tell him. She only wanted him to know the truth and to think about the pieces that each would fit to make a viable whole. Not wanting to be a stick in the mud for him, she went to try on some of her new clothes. Soon, Amanda joined her, because the conversation consisted of the male immortals' first meeting, a story in which Tessa figured prominently.

* * *

**A WEEK LATER**

Since Duncan and Amanda hadn't shown up that morning with coffee and muffins, as had been their custom, Friday looked through the drawers to find the manual on how to use the automatic coffee maker that Methos had left them. Following the directions to the letter, she was confident that she had accomplished yet another thing on her own in the mortal world and watched with satisfaction as the brown liquid slowly filled the pot. 

She heard Richie turn off the shower and in seconds he was dripping wet, standing behind her, kissing her neck. "Hey," she giggled. "You are going to get me wet."

"You already are," he whispered, then kissed her deeply, as they had taken the next step in their relationship. 

For the first time since she turned mortal, Friday was happy that morning, and didn't care about the water, or how much work it would be to dry off and change clothes without her magic. She turned around and hugged Richie. "I guess I can put something else on today."

Richie was feeling pretty good, too, and grinned, "You called me master again." 

"I thought you would like it."

"I did. A lot."

"That is why I said it. Make the bed," she ordered. "Coffee will be done soon. What should we have for breakfast?" She looked in the fridge and cupboards. Each couldn't have been more bare. The beer had been drunk and the mustard had been thrown out after Richie found a layer of green mold on the top when it wouldn't squeeze out for his deli sandwich the day before. "I see someone will have to go shopping for food. Do we have any money?"

"I have a bit," Richie said, finishing up tucking in the corners of the comforter. "And I should get another pay check today."

"Mr. MacLeod did not go with Amanda to Han's funeral?"

"No, he's staying with me. He's a good friend, Friday. I wish you'd give him a chance."

"What are you saying? I adore Mr. MacLeod."

"You're always needling him about if what he just said is what I was thinking and stuff."

"I am just looking out for you. I want you to remember correctly."

"You don't have to look out for me, but it's nice that you do. I'm careful. I'm taking everything he says with a grain of salt."

"Good," Friday smiled as she poured out two mugs of coffee. "Are you remembering anything on your own?" He shook his head, and she saw that Richie's towel had slipped off, but hadn't thought to get dressed yet. "Try this."

She waited for his opinion on her first try at cooking of any kind. He took a sip, it was hot, but... he had to take great pains to swallow. She asked as he gasped, "Does it need sugar? Or milk? We do not have milk, but we might have some sugar."

"I think..." he coughed. "You need to use less coffee next time."

"The manual was not specific on that part." She pulled it out and read it for him, "Use coffee according to taste preference. I guess I have rich taste, huh?"

"I little," Richie slid the cup back to her and she dumped them both into the sink and turned off the pot.

"May I borrow some money for today?"

"You aren't going to the dojo with me?"

"No. I should find a job. We are not going to have this place for free for long."

Richie yanked on a shirt and asked why. He liked having her with him during the days, and hoped that she would see some of the places that Duncan had picked out his neighborhoods growing up, that she would be interested in knowing more about him, like he was.

"Richie, we can not live on the salary that Mr. MacLeod is paying you. I am used to nice things. Living..." she looked around the studio apartment, "in more spacious surroundings." She pointed at the bed, "That is in the middle of the living room for goodness sake. The lighting in here is interesting, the artifacts can hold your attention, but it is not my things or my home. I want a home of our own."

~~~~~

Friday, with ten dollars in her pocket, wearing the clothes and comfortable shoes Amanda had pay for, decided her first stop in the great job search would be the shopping district. If they sold things, there had to be places where one could make money to spend. One of the first things that caught her eye was a line of posters of exotic places lined up in a window. Since she had been almost everywhere at least twice, Friday confidently walked into the travel agency. 

After being able to interview on the spot, Friday was dejected to learn that she 'needed to have computer skills'. Dejected, but still hopeful that she could talk the woman into hiring her said, "I am a quick learner."

"Have you gone to college?"

"No. I have lived."

"The best we can do is make you a gopher," the manager said, then had to acknowledge, "Your knowledge of tourist spots is impressive."

"A gopher...," Friday was confused, but leaned forward in her chair to ask, "How much does that pay?"

"Six dollars an hour."

Friday looked at the package deal to Jamaica advertised on the wall behind the interviewer's head, "That would take me... 583 and a half hours to be able to go back to my beach."

"You know math. That's good. But, you need a degree and computer skills," the woman said.

~~~~~

On her way down the sidewalk, Friday stopped at a pretzel cart and purchased one, breaking the ten Richie had given her and received eight one dollar bills back with the pretzel. As she bit into it, she realized she would have had to work twenty minutes to afford the pretzel at that travel agency. A pretzel! A snack! Why did she splurge on such an expensive luxury? She still had to pay for lunch somewhere. As soon as the pretzel was finished and she took a long drink from a water fountain. As she stood up, she was anxious. More than that, Friday was still hungry.

~~~~~

After finding out that working in an office meant that you had to type and being a delivery person meant that you needed to own a bicycle and she didn't know how expensive bicycles were, Friday stopped on the sidewalk and looked up at the tall buildings that she just found out that day that she wasn't welcome in. A plane flew overhead and she wondered if she could be an airplane pilot, or a school teacher, she'd always liked children, or an actress, she liked movies.

As she continued to watch the plane flying over, wishing she were on it, and it disappeared behind the skyscrapers, she saw a man on a scaffolding washing windows. That wasn't a job for her. She didn't know how to clean and didn't think she could get that high up without a solid platform. She never was scared of heights before, but that was before gravity became a major factor in her life. 

Friday walked, with her eyes still focused on the sky and bumped into a woman dressed to the nines, outfitted in a skirt, a blazer without anything on underneath it and knee high leather boots. Friday gasped when she realized the woman dropped her portfolio, which had spread out on the sidewalk. "I am so sorry," Friday moaned and hurriedly helped her pick up the large photographs, trying not to step on them or bend them. 

The photos were of women and men, head shots. Friday paused to look at a few before handing them back to the woman, who she realized wore a ton of makeup on closer inspection. It was a shame for the woman to be so painted up, because Friday could tell she had nice features.

"How old are you," the woman asked, taking the photos back and sticking them back in the leather folder.

Friday didn't think the truth that she was 2800 or thereabouts would suffice, so she said, "Twenty." That was about her age when she first looked like her current form that Diabol's preference and Richie's last wish cemented for her.

The woman stood, put her hand to her chin and looked at Friday from all angles. Suddenly, she stuck out her black silk gloved hand and authoritatively said, "My name is Ladonna Forrester. What is yours?"

Friday returned her handshake, "Friday."

The woman giggled, "That's charming." They both stood and Ladonna sauntered around Friday looking her up and down, "You dress well. You're in flat shoes, but have to be... 5-10? 5-11?"

Friday sweetly smiled, confused, "I do not know what you are saying."

"How tall are you?"

She shrugged, put her hand to the top of her head, "This high?"

The woman laughed, "You're funny. What cheekbones. What eyes...," she commented as she studied Friday's body from head to toe. "Your hair is fabulous. A nose ring. So out of fashion... but... seems to fit you. Are you free for an hour or two?" Friday nodded, but was guarded. "I'm a talent scout for the Prime Faces Modeling Agency."

"Oh," Friday nodded, having heard of them. That could be a job! "Do you need a gopher? How much do you pay?"

Ladonna laughed again, "So forceful... you're not working now?"

"No. I need a job."

"Well," she took Friday's arm. "Come with me."

The next half hour was a whirlwind as Friday was ushered into the building, up the elevator, to the offices, then back to the studio of Prime Faces. All the way in, Ladonna pointed out Friday's long silky hair, her pert nose and that she liked her nose ring, her wide set eyes, but not so wide set that it turned men off, her prominent shoulders. She was quickly introduced to men and women who were rounded up to perform their magic on her. She was dressed in great clothes, two women redid her makeup from scratch, a man set her hair, another man did her nails, then she was led to a stool in front of a sky blue crumpled backdrop and asked to pose while another man with three assistants took pictures.

Friday felt like queen of the ball, and that this treatment was more like it! She had fun posing for the photographer, who encouraged her to show him every facial expression and stance she could think of, changing into more glamorous or casual attire, getting fussed over so she looked perfect for every setting. The only mishap during the process was when Friday, leaning back to pout seductively, fell off the stool. 

Ladonna talked with her as Friday changed back into her own clothes and told her that models for their agency commanded at least five figures an hour. Friday didn't exactly know what that meant, but she had changed into at least seven outfits during her shoot and knew the pay for all that work had to be good. She could take Richie to Jamaica, no problem.

Friday was almost giddy when Ladonna told her that Lee Kensington herself, founder of the agency was in the building and wanted to see the proofs that were just taken. Newly discovered talent was always a big deal for them. She was brought to Ms. Kensington's office and was introduced to the older, dignified woman with a silver bob of hair and who used oversized eyeglasses as a headband. She immediately used a magnifying glass to look over the proof sheets as soon as they were developed.

"Nice..." Ms. Kensington said, then looked at the next batch. "Very expressive. Not quite the girl next door... She seems to be... what would the word be... wise... beyond her years." She stood up and put on her glasses to look at Friday. "Just how old are you?"

"Twenty."

"Hm, that's a little old to start out. Have you modeled before?"

"Just today." In her long life, Friday had never done anything like she had the last three hours.

Ms. Kensington sat at her desk and looked at Friday's face and stomach. "Very nice face," she said, then shrugged, "A little puffy. You have to lose five pounds." 

"Excuse me?"

"You have to lose at least five pounds before we can use you."

Friday said, "But, I am almost a hundred pounds lighter than I usually am."

The gasps in the room were sudden and overwhelming. They all looked at her in horror, even Ladonna, who had been so kind to her. Ms. Kensington quickly said, dismissing her, "In that case, we can't use you. We can't pour money into you if you're going to blow up like a balloon." Before Friday knew what happened, she was escorted to the lobby, not even all the way to the door. 

She was starving, but only had four dollars and change left after that pretzel and bus fare and she still had to find work or it would have been an unproductive day. Friday wondered how Richie and Duncan were doing, also thought about how sad Amanda had to be in London, about to go to the funeral of her good friend. She absently twisted the rings on her fingers and saw a pawn shop. The sign on the window said, 'WE PAY GOOD MONEY'. 

She needed 'great' money, but 'good' money would do in a pinch. She walked in, and set nine of the rings down on the mat in front of the pawnbroker. She wouldn't part with the ring that Wen had given to her on her 2000th birthday, not even if her life depended on it. His eyes grew wide at the sight of them knowing that they were real gold, silver and jewels as soon as he saw them, but covered his surprise to her. After small talk and taking a look at each one under a magnifying glass, he stood with both hands on the desk and told her, "I'll give you... a hundred for the whole lot of them."

Friday was pleased, that was more like it! She smiled, "One hundred thousand dollars would be fine."

"Lady," he smirked, "a hundred bucks."

"A hundred?! That is .... highway robbery. Do you know where these rings came from?" She pointed at the delicately etched gold band, "That one belonged to Marie Antoinette herself."

"I don't care if they belonged to the Pope."

"That one did," she pointed at the silver man's ring with a sapphire that she always wore on her middle finger of her right hand. "Pope Benedict VIII."

He laughed, "You have a great sense of humor, but 100 bucks is all I can do for you, cuz if you're even half serious, they're hot."

"Hot? No, they... what are you saying?"

~~~~~

She walked out with her rings and saw one of the many dress shops she was in with Amanda the day before. She asked the saleswoman who waited on them, "Are you hiring?"

"We can always use part timers."

"How much do you pay?"

"$5.50 an hour plus commission, and a 5% discount on clothes."

"What is commission?"

The saleswoman laughed, then realized that she was serious. "It's a percentage of what you sell."

"Oh," Friday was hopeful. She looked at some of the prices on the clothes and asked, "How much can one sell in one day?"

"The whole store, if you're good."

"How much have you sold today?"

"None of your business."

Friday stared at her and slowly shook her head, "Where do you get a good job?!"

The saleslady, who was a college student and part time manager for the store said, "When you find one, let me know, she's going to have a lot of student loans to pay off."

So, she obviously wasn't selling much merchandise... Then she intently questioned, "Loans?" 

"Yes, they give you money that you have to pay back."

"Who does?"

The woman laughed, "The banks."

"AAHH," Friday uttered. She had never thought of banks, and didn't know how they work. Again, she felt stupid. But, to be fair, she hadn't ever had the need for one. "Thank you!"

~~~~~

The loan officer was a pleasant young man who was cordial and offered her coffee before getting into her financial situation. He was pretty surprised that she came in asking for a loan and hadn't brought any paperwork with her, but he asked her how much she needed to borrow.

Friday didn't have a set amount in mind, but remembered the travel package to Jamaica for $3,500, so that's the amount that she asked for. 

He wrote it down, "What collateral do you have?"

"What is that?"

"Something to put up in case you fault on the loan."

"Fault?"

"In case you don't pay us back, we'd take the collateral in exchange for the $3500."

"I will pay you back," Friday said, almost offended that he thought she wouldn't.

He smiled, "Funny thing, but the bank needs more than just your word. Let me guess, you don't have any assets."

Friday looked at her rings but they might be 'hot', whatever that meant, and that man wouldn't want them either. "What are student loans?"

"Loans to be used for schooling. Is that the sort of loan you were thinking of?" He opened his drawer to pull out a different form.

"People learn how to use computers at a school?"

"Yes...," he hesitated. 

"How much would school cost?"

"That depends on where you go."

"What about a really good school?"

"Anywhere from 15,000 to 150,000 a year."

"WOW!" Friday almost fell on the floor. "How many years does school take?"

He saw the clock on the wall, and he should be heading home. "I'll tell you what, take this form home and look it over, fill it out, and we can go over it tomorrow."

~~~~~

Friday read the information that the form asked for, and didn't know how to answer any of the questions except her name, telephone number and address. She ended up tossing it in the garbage on the way back to the dojo. 

Richie and another guy were laughing and joshing with each other as they used the equipment. Methos sat on the steps leading to the locker rooms, reading a book, when Friday trudged in after her day. She walked over to Richie to get a well deserved hug and kiss, was introduced to Tommy, Richie's new friend. Since she felt like an intruder on their now somber work out session, she left them alone, walking toward Methos. She said, "I thought that you were going to leave town."

"I am," he said, not even lifting his eyes from his book. "Mac's packing up some things I've left upstairs."

"Why are you not doing it? They are your things."

"But it's his sanctuary up there. He gets testy when I snoop around."

Methos looked at her and saw her still painted up face from her modeling shoot. He was going to comment that she looked nice all painted up, but went back to his book instead. She sat on the step next to him and he had to yank his coat out from under her as she had plopped down too close. "Sorry," she sighed as she lifted so he could pull it out. "I can not seem to do anything right today."

Methos grunted and kept reading about Ebenezer Scrooge's encounter with the Ghost of Christmas past. She looked at the cover of the book while it was still in his hands, "A Christmas book?" He nodded, kept on reading. "It is September. Why are you reading a Christmas book?"

He corrected her, "I'm reading a **_Dickens_**__ book. I try to reread them all every couple of years."

"You have a lot of spare time." He nodded, went back to reading. "What do you do?"

"Whatever I want."

"How do you pay for things?"

"Currency."

"How do you have money?"

"I've saved over the years."

"I would imagine," she sighed. "That is what I should have done had I known the importance of money. Jinn have no use for it, or when I needed it, I conjured it. No problem."

He closed the book and slipped it in his pocket. He told her, "I can float you two a loan."

"I do not have collateral."

He smiled, and wondered what kind of day she had. He didn't ask, because he was sure she would tell him. He said, "But I know where you live. And of course, I'll charge interest."

"What is interest?"

"You pay me money for each day you don't pay me back."

"How can I pay you back if the only money I have is what you loaned me?"

"You have to make your money work for you."

"That is interesting," she perked up. Thinking about it, she didn't know what that meant and asked, "How would I do that?"

"That's for you to figure out."

"You are a real font of information, Methos."

He looked over at Richie to Tommy to see if they heard her so blatantly say his name, "You don't know the half of it. And I'm Adam. Remember that."

She flinched when she absent-mindedly scratched her hand too roughly that made her wound hurt. Methos was going to check it for her, but she got up to start pacing and Duncan came out of the elevator with a box of his things. Methos went to Duncan instead, took the box and sifted through it. "Hey, how 'bout my fob?"

"I don't have **_any_**__ fob," Duncan laughed. "Let alone your fob."

"No," Methos argued. "I distinctly remember getting home one night and remembering that I left it on your coffee table. Where is it? It was a gift."

"I pawned it," Mac smiled, and went to see about Richie's and Tommy's regiment. 

"You **_what_**?"

"I don't have it, Adam."

"It was on your coffee table."

"Maybe it's at the barge, it's not here."

Methos paused, "Ah, yes. Paris. That's where it is." He cupped his fingers back and forth over his palm. "Gimme the keys."

"To the barge? No."

"When are you going to Paris?"

"I don't know. I have to see if Richie will be up to it."

"I need that fob, I'm going to trade it for... none of your business, just give me the keys to the barge."

"No. You will get it when I get there myself."

Friday listened to their exchange about making a mess and a vase that Methos broke, but he countered that Duncan was the one that dropped it, and at Richie and Tommy joking and exercising, and she felt like a fifth wheel, an inadequate imbecile. She was going to offer to take Duncan and Methos to Paris to get the stupid fob, but then remembered she couldn't do that anymore. She couldn't even afford plane tickets. She had thousands of years of experience under her belt and she didn't know how to deal with the mortal world. She was hungry but only had a quarter left in her pocket when she last checked. She wondered how mortals and immortals could go about their day without eating.

They didn't notice when she walked out and paced back and forth in front of the building, suddenly realizing why so many mortals had wished for currency all her years of offering wishes. Such a material thing, money. She had always thought that there was so much more that could give you happiness. Boy, was she wrong! You couldn't do anything without money in the mortal world. 

She scratched at the bandage on her hand again and saw her death looming ahead of her. Fifty, maybe sixty years, was all she had left. She had spent more time locked in that Faberge Egg! That was nothing. It was only a blink of an eye. She looked at the mortals around her walking by on the sidewalk and wondered if they knew just how the time they spent on earth was so fleeting. They seemed to think that their important tasks, going to work, needing to buy things, were so important. They meant nothing. And she was starving!

Methos came out of the building and pushed the remote for his car. It beeped and he opened the back door to set the box in. Friday told him, "I thought you owned a Jeep."

"I do."

"You must have a lot of money."

"I'm comfortable."

"I bet."

"Look, you want some money? No interest, you and Richie don't have to pay me back."

"No," Friday defiantly said. "I will do it on my own. Thank you, anyway."

He looked at her again as she no longer was a danger, he didn't have to worry about what she would do to him next, sort of let down that Friday was meek and nonthreatening all of a sudden. Her spunk had been kind of fun, in a masochistic way. She noticed his stare, "What?"

"Nothing, just... offers open. I don't want you two to starve to death."

"We will not starve to death," she assured him, but wondered if sifting through garbage cans would be in her future. She and Richie couldn't go anywhere or do anything. If all she could get was a six dollar an hour job, she might as well be dead.

"Look," he told her. "I'm staying at the Jordan. They have a nice restaurant there and I'll treat you and Richie to a nice dinner before I leave town."

She wondered how he knew she was starving, but said, "That is nice, but we are not charity cases. No thank you."

"I try to do something...," Methos shrugged, got in the vehicle and drove away, not liking to be turned down when he offered a favor. 

Friday called after him, "It was sweet, but..." and watched him turn the corner. She looked up at the dojo's windows, but decided to walk and think and get some fresh air instead of rejoining them. She felt a good old crying jag coming on and didn't want them to see it. She slipped into an alley and leaned up against the wall, then slid down to have a pity party. She missed Wen and Malik so much, she felt like her stomach was being yanked out with a fork, and not just because of hunger. 

They had to think that she was dead. She and Diabol disappeared from jinn radar at the same time. They probably thought he killed her or she killed him or they killed each other. Even if they thought she was still alive, she had never spent time in Seacouver, Washington. They wouldn't **_ever_** think to look there for her. 

Suddenly, the last bit of sunshine of the day that shone into the alleyway was blocked out by a man who stood before her to ask if she was alright. "I happened to be walking by and heard you crying."

"I am fine," she meekly smiled. Wiped away the tears. "Thank you."

"It can't be all that bad," he held out his hand to her.

He was handsome, kind. Friday took his hand and he helped her to her feet. "Thank you, I am fine." He was the nicest person she actually came across all day. The man brushed her hair behind her shoulder and wiped away the last tear from her cheek. Friday stepped back, as that was a little too intimate. 

He suddenly shoved her back against the wall, mashed his mouth against hers, moved his leg between hers. "Stop," she yelled. He slapped her, moving her farther into the alley, then knocked her down and was on top of her in no time. She screamed, kicked him in the groin. He yelped, then pulled out a gun. 

Friday knew she couldn't die like that, her body was paralyzed with fright, but she kept on screaming for him to stop and for help. He clamped onto her chest when a man pulled at the attacker's collar yelling, "Get off her!" Friday got up and ran like hell down the alleyway, to another street, and kept on running, the mortal way to disappear. "Friday," Richie yelled. "Don't run off!"

Richie and Tommy took turns punching and kicking the man, again and again. Instead of cowering from their attack, he aimed the gun and fired three times. Richie and Tommy fell back as the man got up and limped away. Richie lifted his head, the only part of his body he could move, to see the red spot growing on his chest and Tommy laying next to him, eyes closed. He tried to reach over to check his pulse, but couldn't move, then couldn't see. The pain of the gunshot was intense as he died.

~~~~~

Earlier in the dojo, Tommy had lost the bet because Richie had been able to do more chin ups in succession, so he and Friday were going to be treated to some surf and turf. They hadn't noticed that Friday had even left, and figured she was outside talking to Methos. Just after they left to find her, Duncan had settled at the desk in the office to get to that paperwork that businesses needed done on a somewhat regular basis. Through the open window, he heard the gunshot outside that jerked him out of his seat. 

He ran out of the dojo, flew down the steps and into the alleyway. Duncan found Tommy and Richie lying in their own blood. Tommy was shot in the stomach and Richie got it in the chest.

Richie revived to see Duncan performing CPR on Tommy. Richie felt for a pulse on his new friend, but there wasn't one. Duncan wouldn't stop, but asked, "What happened here?"

"Some guy..." Richie groaned.

"Immortal?"

"No, I didn't feel him. He was... he attacked Friday! I have to find her. She's gotta be out of her mind."

They heard police sirens in the distance. He was ready to go out searching for her, but Duncan yelled, "You're not going anywhere."

"We can't stay here! I have to find Friday!"

"Don't make me stop CPR on Tommy to run after you!"

That made Richie stop to look at his new friend looking dead. Duncan kept on with the CPR. It all happened so fast; he and Tommy didn't even see it coming. Duncan continued, "Look at yourself. You have a big red stain on your shirt! You can't be seen with a bullet hole on it! Go get cleaned up," Duncan said. "I'm sure she's fine, Rich."

"How do you know that? She can't do anything."

"Sure she can."

"She was attacked, Mac!"

"Go upstairs, change clothes and I'll stay here with Tommy when the cops get there. Go! We'll find her, but you can't be seen like that." He leaned down to once again blow into Tommy's mouth.

"Okay."

He ran into the building as cop cars arrived to the scene of the crime, to see Duncan still performing CPR on Tommy. It was only a matter of minutes for the ambulance to arrive, but by that time, Tommy was pronounced dead. Duncan agreed to go to the station to give a report on what little he saw. He only heard a shot and came down to investigate, saw Tommy, who was a member of the club.

~~~~~

Friday stopped running when she was a mile away from the scene of her attack. It was all too much for her, the mortal world was scary, no wonder mortals were all loaded with fear. You couldn't trust anyone. That man had looked so nice. Being used by men wasn't new to Friday, but it still shook her up. She still looked to the best in people. 

She saw that she was near the Ritz Carlton, saw the top of the building across the park. That's were she lost everything, where she was turned mortal on the roof during the life and death chess game. Friday went into the hotel and up to the roof. There wasn't any remnant of what had happened, of what had so thoroughly changed her life. No chess board. No cage that enclosed her and Joe. No sign that they were even there except for Diabol's blood stain. She wondered what they had done with his body. There wasn't crime scene tape. A jinn's body would slowly curl up and blow away... but Diabol was mortal when he died, so there had to be a corpse. She stretched out where it was that she fell out of Diabol and cried.

~~~~~

Richie went to the Quest, thinking she needed a drink and because it was one of the few places that Friday knew in Seacouver. He grumbled as he opened the door that the whole Diabol mess wouldn't have happened if not for Methos banishing her. As soon as Richie walked in, Candy the waitress, and Richie's one night stand before he had fallen in love with Friday, approached him with her tray, and a welcoming kiss. "Richie," she said as she grabbed his arm to steer him toward a stool. "It's so nice to see you again. Come and have a seat at the bar. I'm off in about an hour. Why didn't you call to tell me you're coming? I made plans, but that's all right. I can change them."

"Candy," Richie muttered, stumbling for words, having not expected to see her. Candy was the last thing on his mind at the moment. "I'm sorry, but I didn't come for..." He looked at her eyes, heard the din of the noisy bar had drown out his words and she was leaning close to hear him. "I can't stay," he said louder so she could hear him. "I'm looking for someone who might have come in here. Her name is Friday, she..." He remembered that Friday hadn't even been able to enter the Quest and Candy probably never heard of her let alone knew what she looked like. 

Richie shook his head. "Never mind," he said. "I gotta go. I'm sorry I haven't called, but... I've been busy. There's a lot I've been dealing with. How are you?"

Candy smiled. "I'm fine. I was wondering why you hadn't called. Didn't you enjoy our night together?"

"I did." Richie nodded, at a loss of what to say. "I did a lot. I may... may be leaving town and came to tell you that I may not be able to see you again. I'm sorry." Candy's face fell. He made up a line, "I came to tell you that. I wanted to tell you that personally. I like you a lot and you're very sweet and sexy. But I have to leave town. I'm sorry."

"You're going somewhere that doesn't have phones or planes?" She shook her head, sorry she had shown her feelings to a guy who obviously didn't care. Candy's voice was tight when she said, "That's okay. Have a nice life."

"Candy!" Richie shouted and tried to catch her arm, but she had been swallowed up by the customers standing in the aisles and dancing on their way to the dance floor. Riche felt terrible for how he treated her, especially since he really did like her. But he had to find Friday.

~~~~~

Duncan walked out of the police station, having given one more report during his time in Seacouver. Because the detective had recognized him from other cases, Duncan wondered if it was time to get out of Seacouver for good. He had enjoyed his time there, had an established business, but he might have overstayed his welcome.

Duncan drove through the city on the off chance that he would spot Richie or Friday. The thought that his protege was alone out there didn't make him feel easy. He could about imagine what Friday had gone through. Yes, a vacation for Washington state and all the mind games they'd both had to go through was a very good idea. If he could only find either of them.

* * *

**THE NEXT MORNING**

Friday awoke to find herself in the same spot she had fallen asleep, and was really cold. Being chilled was another state of being that she'd not experienced. Before she remembered her plight, she had waved her hand for her full length fur coat. She stood up and looked over the edge of the roof to the well manicured trees and shrubs down below. She could see through the skylight that early bird guests making use of the Olympic sized swimming pool. BMWs, Lincolns and Rolls Royces were lined up in the parking ramp. She could never afford to have a room in such a hotel again. Nothing in her life would be the same. 

Friday felt a deep sense of doom and stepped closer to the edge, feeling the cool wind sweep her long hair back. She looked down at the ground, at the grass, the concrete and tiled walkways. She only had to lift her foot, move it forward, and lose her balance. Then it would all be over. There would be an afterlife for her, she was sure of it. And it would certainly be better than the life she was leading.

_Wait a minute_! Friday had a thought. She was in a hotel. She'd been in a lot of hotels. A concierge! That was basically what she was as a Jinniyah. A concierge! _How much does a concierge get paid_? 

Friday had been great friends with the concierge of the Ritz in Paris. Jacques Renoit was loaded. He vacationed at nice places, put his five kids through college. Lived in a nice home. Tips were excellent, comparable to the service the guests were given. Friday had spent her life making people's wishes come true. She could do that! Not with magic, but by people who she could order around like she had witnessed Jacques doing. 

It was if cloud had lifted on Friday's soul. Suddenly, the wind wasn't so cold. The sun was brighter. The birds' chirping was melodic. The roof was a lot higher! She jumped back to a safe distance from the edge. If it wouldn't be this hotel, it would be a hotel somewhere. She knew she could do well in that field. She realized that she was standing atop a Ritz hotel and wondered if Jacques at the Ritz in Paris would be any help in getting her work. It certainly wouldn't hurt to at least ask him. Friday was feeling great! She knew what people wished, what they wanted to be comfortable and pampered. It was second nature to her.

A janitor walked onto the roof to repair one of the skylights that leaked and they surprised each other. He barked, "What you are doing up here? Guests aren't allowed!"

Friday hurriedly said, "I was just leaving," as she didn't like to call attention to herself or any mistakes that she had made. She looked at the janitor and wondered how much he made. She decided that he must not have much money because he was in about the same sort of mood she had been the day before, with no prospects. "What is your name?"

The janitor told her, in a guarded voice, "Tim."

"Nice to meet you, Tim," Friday said as she shook his hand. "Tell me, who is the concierge in this hotel?"

"Marita."

"Has she been here long?"

"About 10 years."

"Is she going to quit soon?"

Tim shrugged, "How should I know?"

Since he motioned for her to hit the road, she pleasantly smiled at him and dropped his hand. They may be co-workers one day, and you should always be nice. "Thank you for your time, Tim."

Friday trotted down to the stairs and took the elevator down to the lobby, checking herself in the gold wall. Her suit was a little dirty on the butt and brushing it off didn't help. She decided not to show anyone her butt, so it would be alright to just talk to someone about the process of getting a job there. Before the elevator doors opened, she combed her hair with her fingers and straightened her suit jacket. 

She talked to the desk manager and needed a resume and reference. A resume. She didn't know what that was but didn't want to ask. She didn't want to appear stupid. "Thank you," she hurriedly said and made a hasty exit.

Outside, the day was just as pleasant at street level than it had been 20 floors up. In fact, it was better. She was on solid ground. She needed a resume and a reference. She had Jacques for a reference. And Duncan. A resume... she still didn't know about that. Resume... a summary? An essay of why she wanted the job? 

Off in the distance, she saw the still lighted sign of the Jordan Hotel Towers and remembered that Methos was staying there. He was still in town after all, after making the pretense that he was leaving and they could have his place. Friday smiled. She may have been wrong in her judgment of him after their second meeting. Methos had even offered to feed them. With that thought, she reached the conclusion that she was famished, far beyond starved. Maybe he'd be willing to buy her breakfast and they could call Richie from his room.

Then she remembered, "Richie!" and yelled it out loud, stopping some morning commuters in their tracks. Man, she hated being the center of attention, when she was an idiot, and weakly smiled as she hot-footed it to the Jordan Towers. She'd **_have_** to call Richie, he must be frantic. The last thing she remembered in the alleyway after the attack was Richie yelling for her not to run off, and that's just what she did. 

~~~~~

Methos was still in a deep sleep when he heard the phone ring. He fumbled for it in the dark as he had kept the curtains tightly closed when he fell asleep. He answered, "This had better be important!"

The desk clerk said, "I'm sorry to disturb you, Mr. Pierson, but you have a visitor."

Methos groggily lifted his head off the pillow, "A what?"

"A visitor... a woman is here to see you. It seems to be urgent."

"Who?"

"She says her name is Friday?"

His head flopped back on the pillow as he groaned, "What does she want?"

"She didn't inform me, do you want to talk to her? She's right here."

"No."

"Sir?" There was a long pause. The desk clerk could only hear deep, aggravated breathing. "I see. I'll tell her that you aren't accepting visitors. I'm sorry to have bothered you, sir."

Before he could hang up, Methos said, "Send her up."

Before he finally woke enough to get out of bed and put on his pants, there was a hesitant knock on the door. Methos yanked it open to see Friday, a little mussed up. Her hair had a leaf in it and could certainly use a wash, her clothes that he remembered her wearing the day before was a little dirty and the makeup job from the photo session had faded. What was still on her face had smudged. "Gods, what happened to you?"

She looked herself over. She was a little dirty from sleeping on the roof, and from being forced to the ground in that alley, but she didn't think she was that bad. She straightened her jacket and ran a hand through her hair. Her fingers caught the leaf that she hadn't noticed before and she cringed. That had to be why the manager was so abrupt with her. "I just... is this a bad time?"

"Yes," Methos clearly stated.

"I can come back later?"

"Why?"

"I need your help."

Methos knew it was coming. "Really?"

"Yes. You were willing to help me yesterday, I was wondering if the offer was still open."

"What did I offer yesterday?" He was out late and had a few too many beers to remember a conversation of theirs beyond the fact that she didn't know the first thing about money.

"Food for one." Her hand flew to her stomach and she wondered if he could hear it grumbling. "And I need a resume? What does that mean?"

He looked to the ceiling, wondering how he got so lucky as to have her think she could rely on him, but invited her in. "You found yourself a job?"

"I found a job I want, I just have to get it."

"I can't imagine what that would be."

Friday brightly announced, "I will be a concierge!"

Methos half heartedly nodded, "That's one thing I've never done in my life, being a concierge. I've owned hotels, but never worked in one. Except for that time I was a bartender."

"What is a resume?"

"It's a word that comes from the French."

"I know that," Friday said, wanting to get on with important facts. "I just do not know what it means in the context of acquiring employment."

"It's a list of professions, or jobs that you've had."

"I have only had one."

Methos smiled, "And I'm sure you can't put that on a resume."

"I would not think so. Can you help me? You have an imagination."

"How do you know?"

"You have not lost your head in 5000 years, for one."

Methos proudly held his head high and said, "Let me get dressed, and we can figure something out."

"Can I call down for food?"

"Sure. Get me some scrambled eggs," he said as he made his way to the bathroom.

"And I need to call Richie."

"Be my guest."

~~~~~

Richie had arrived back at Methos' apartment to find it empty. He was ready to go back out and search for Friday when Duncan appeared at the door. "No time for breakfast, Mac. I gotta find her."

"She's not here? I drove by and saw you were in and hoped she was too. I've been searching all night myself."

"Where the hell could she be? Did that murderer find her too?! Tommy died, didn't he?"

Duncan sadly nodded the affirmative as Richie threw a sofa pillow against the wall in anger. "Sorry Rich. Tommy was a great kid. He came into the dojo on a regular basis. I was so glad that you two found each other, that you'd be friends. You both needed a friend."

"I have a friend, Mac, and she's out there alone."

Duncan nodded and patted Richie's shoulder. "Let's go find her."

Just as they shut and locked the door and got into the elevator, the phone rang.

~~~~~

Friday was eating pancakes, waffles, eggs, bacon and sausage when Methos got out of the shower dressed for the day. His plate of eggs was the only food she hadn't taken a bite of. He saw the layout of filled plates on the catering cart, the bed, on Friday's lap and in her hand. "You ordered one of everything?"

"I could not make up my mind," Friday happily said. "It all sounded so delicious."

"Are you going to pay for all this?"

"No. You are."

"This is more than one meal that I offered."

"But, you would not have had a night with Cleopatra if not for me."

"And I wouldn't have lost my flock if not for you."

She stopped in mid chew of bacon and asked confused, "What flock? A flock of what?"

"Never mind," Methos said as he plucked a sausage link from a plate on his unmade bed. "We're even now."

Friday moved over so he could have a seat and continued to eat as fast as she could. "You're going to make yourself sick."

She swallowed then commented, "I just can not understand how hungry I am. I am hungry all the time. Maybe until I gain a few pounds and the hunger pangs will stop."

"Or, you'll just want to have more. You really should watch what you eat. Do you exercise?"

"What do you mean? I walk. I live. Is that not enough?"

"Never mind, what do I care?" he mumbled, then wiped his mouth and tossed the napkin on the tray. He opened the drawer to take out his laptop and revved it up while he placed it on his lap, sitting lotus style, on the bed.

Friday was excited to get to business and sat next to him, peering at the monitor. "That is a computer? It is so small."

"Yes."

"I need to know how to use a computer. Is it difficult?"

"No."

The word processing program started and Methos went through his own files, thinking he would open one of his own fabricated resumes and just change the information to fit her. But, since she was too interested in reading his information than providing her own, he cleared the screen and started from scratch.

Friday smiled, "You know a lot of languages."

"Yes."

"How come the information disappeared like magic? I was reading it."

"I know. That's why I made it disappear, like magic." He didn't need her to see his resume that he used to get into the Watchers, but it was the one resume he was most proud of and used as a template for getting that position in the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City. Thinking about the Met reminded him that he hadn't heard from them yet. He really needed to get into the bowels of that museum, some of their new acquisions were his. They'd better call soon, or he'd have to go pay them a visit.

He formatted a basic resume and turned to her, "What's your name?"

"Friday."

"You want to use the name Friday?"

"This is my name."

"No, you need to have a last name."

"That reminds me, why do you not use your name of Methos any longer?"

"Why don't you use Laminae?"

"That is the shortened version of my real name. And I had a husband out there who liked to make my life miserable."

"Well, I have a whole crop of immortals out there who think Methos is a myth. I want to keep it that way. Besides, this isn't about me, this is about what name that you want to use."

She was at a loss. "Friday... Friday..." She couldn't think of anything. She looked at Methos. "Friday Pierson?"

"No way," he instantly dismissed it. He typed in Friday Ryan on the top line.

Friday saw it and commented, "Richie Ryan is not his name anymore."

"Are you married to him?"

"No."

"Then what does it matter? You need a name and it's the one that I thought of. Change it later if you want. I'm busy and I'm helping you out, although I have no idea why."

She leaned back away from him as his agitation grew. "Okay! Okay! Do not get touchy. Friday Ryan. Thank you."

He typed in the address and phone number of his apartment that he had donated to the cause of Richie and Friday and got down to the meat of the resume and paused. "You can't use 800 BC to the present - Jinniyah, so what positions would you have held?" Friday was uncomfortable with the way he looked her over. "You know," he said. "You look young. You can't have much experience."

"At what?"

"At anything. You're just out of college," he decided.

"I have a lot of experience," Friday argued. "In a lot of areas."

"None of which do you any good in today's modern, mortal world."

"Do not remind me."

"Let's start with your references. Do you want to use Mac?"

She was excited. "No, I have a **_great_** reference. Jacques Renoit at the Ritz in Paris."

Methos was surprised. "You know Jacques?"

"Of course, I know Jacques. Do you know Jacques?"

"Who doesn't? He's quite the poker player."

Friday was sad, "I have never played poker with Jacques. I wish I had."

Methos shrugged, "He cheats."

"Then why do you play with him?"

"Because I'm a better cheater."

"Trickster..."

He held up his hand to warn her, "Don't even start."

She saw that he had typed out, from memory, all the information of Jacques at the Ritz. The address of the hotel, Jacques' personal phone number, even his cell phone number. Methos looked at her, "What's another one?"

"Another what?"

"Reference. Employers seem to like three of them nowadays."

"Three?! I have to have three? Why three?"

Methos laughed, "So they know you're not a crackpot."

"I am **_not_** a crackpot."

"But they don't know that."

Her shoulders slumped as Jacques was the only one she could think of. "Mr. MacLeod?"

Methos nodded and typed out why he knew her and said, "We'll have to tell Mac that he's known you since you were 10 and that you've worked at the antique store and dojo for the last five years."

"Okay." She didn't know what he meant, but rolled with it. She didn't like liars, but this was important! This was her life. She just hoped Methos knew what he was doing.

"Another?"

"Amanda?"

"No," Methos chuckled. "She's a cat thief. I'm not sure that would hold well for employers who want employees who will not steal from them."

"I would **_never_** do that."

"You need another reference."

"You?"

"Me?"

"Yes."

"But, I don't care for you."

She was ready to explode from his behavior, but then realized it was a joke and she laughed along with him. "So, I could use you."

"I lay low. I don't have an established business in the city."

"But you own the Quest, and oh! You own Harrod's! I could not get in there."

Methos smiled. "I own a small little office on the top floor."

"To do what?"

"None of your business."

"Well, put yourself down."

"No." He was serious and she finally figured it out, so she felt dejected. "Hold the phone," he told her. "I'll get you one."

Methos made a phone call of a man who's reputation was wholesome. One of his holdings was an amusement park and would be able to tell a prospective employer that Friday was excellent with greeting and helping their guests and was a go-getter, had a rapport with children and adults alike. The man's name was Hudson Powell. That the name that the public and IRS knew. The moniker he was known by in the underground was 'Fast Money'.

Methos and Fast Money only talked in a brief, clipped conversation, but when Methos hung up, he told her, "It's all set. He owes me a favor, so he better be good when they call."

"His name is Fast Money?"

"That's one of the kinder names he's known by."

"If he makes fast money, then maybe I should ask him for a job. I could be his personal assistant or something. I can make all his dreams come true."

Methos looked at her, she had a lot of years under her belt, but she didn't know how the world worked, and was so naive. "He makes his own dreams come true. All you'd do for him is..." He shook his head and asked, "Do you enjoy having fingers?"

"Yes. Of course."

"Then I wouldn't."

"But, you have your fingers."

"But, I heal."

"Ah. I do not want to work for Mr. Fast Money. I do not even want him as a reference." The thought of the man who attacked her the night before made her fall back into a shell.

Methos said, "I've had to use him at times, not because I want to, but because there was no way to get around him. He's big in the community. Stay away from him, but he's an excellent reference for you. Every else knows him as a powerful business man. They're none the wiser."

"He will not hurt me?"

"Not unless you do something to him."

"I have the feeling that this Mr. Fast Money, Hudson Powell person is what is called a mobster."

"Your feeling is correct."

"So, I have a cheating poker playing, an immortal gym owner and mobster as my references."

"Everyone should be so lucky."

It was time for schooling, Methos rubbed his hands together and thought back, "The Seacouver University had a little fire a couple of years ago, and sadly, they lost a lot of files that they weren't able to recover. You went there."

He started typing more of her resume. She asked, "A fire?"

"Yes."

"Was anyone hurt?"

"No, it was a 'focused' fire."

"Did you have something to do with it?"

"Matches...," Methos said and shrugged. "They just seem to fall into file cabinets when they're lit."

"**_METHOS_**!"

Methos held his hand up again. "**_SH_**!!! No calling me by me name with a loud tone of voice! In fact, don't call me that at all. Are you **_insane_**?" He saw her smug expression and stated, "A fake name as helped me out, it help you out too, **_Friday_**. Don't look down your nose at me."

His finger was posed on the tracking ball that was hovering over the close without saving button on the program. "No! I am sorry," she pleaded. "I need that."

"Okay then. What was your GPA....," he thought as he looked at her once again to gauge what kind of student she would have been. Before she could ask what GPA stood for, he said, "Grade Point Average. What kind of grades did you get? When you would take a test, would you do well?"

"Of course, if it is something I know about or understand."

He typed out GPA - 3.90. As he saved the sparkling new resume onto a floppy disk for her, she smiled and said, "I was wrong about you."

"I know."

"You are very sweet."

"Don't let that get around."

"Oh, I would not dream of it."

"Check your mailbox tomorrow, Powell's reference should be in there."

  
  


******CONTINUED** in Part Six

   [1]: mailto:EnyaJo@aol.com
   [2]: http://www.geocities.com/enyajo/fridayindex.html



End file.
